Dead Fish in a Box

The chronicles of a suburban fishpimp trying to keep it rural.

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Location: United States

Thursday, August 25, 2005


I got another brief e-mail from Mrs. Fishpimp yesterday:

“We're off to a boat launch trip to see hippos. We've seen chimps twice already and leopard, one on the side of the road and one up a tree with a kill.”

Again, I ask my self: “how does this qualify as ‘work’?”

She goes on one of these trips once a year, usually for two to three weeks at a time. She’s been to Alaska, Costa Rica (several times), Panama, Honduras, Guatemala, Belize, Kenya, Tanzania, and now Uganda. Each time I am left alone with the dog to fend for myself. I used to have a hard time – I’d always run out of clean plates & glasses, but now I just use paper. It’s just too hard for me to go against my genetic destiny and actually “do the dishes” as they say.

During these breaks in proximity I distract myself from any potential loneliness with a number of methods. Some are pretty normal: drinking cocktails & reading, wasting time playing Civilization (aka: “Civing”), crying over / laughing at the Mariners, etc. Others are more atypical: currently I’m training for a triathlon in September.

But one activity remains constant anytime my wife travels: I go out and buy something, and I’m not talking groceries or gas. Something significant. This year I bought a used digital camera on E-bay (she took all the other cameras to Africa and I’ve got serious documentation needs!) Last year I bought a new suit, the year before that I bought a new backpack. She hates this little ritual of mine. It’s not enough that I’ve got lots of use out of all these things, she’s still mad because of how the tradition started.

We were engaged the very first time she traveled for this company. While she was away my car started having problems. After a $600 repair I started thinking. I realized that I was sitting on a vehicle with 150,000 miles that had received no major services – brakes, clutch, timing belt, nothing. I didn’t have the cash lying around for a major repair on a 12 year old rice-rocket – so, with my fiancée out of town, I traded it in on a new truck.
I don’t understand what the big deal is.


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