The Spirit of (57) 76

This year on September 28, 5776 if you follow the Jewish calendar, Robin and I will celebrate our anniversary. Thirty-five years. Which is 5741 in Jewish years.  Which is probably why we have nothing left to say to each other during dinner and we watch a lot of re-runs of The Big Bang Theory.

As I do when Yom Kippur falls on the same week as my anniversary, I endeavor to atone for the marital sins I may or may not have committed in the past. In Jewish tradition, I need to not ask God for forgiveness; instead it needs to be asked of the person upon whom I transgressed. Which, of course, sucks. I think God would get a kick out of the shit I pull. She would understand. She's probably been through more than a few husbands Herself. I mean, what man is good enough for Her?

Anyway. Here goes:

Dear Robin, 

Please forgive me for telling you that I was downstairs looking for your wallet when I was really down there downloading a Tae Bo class onto my computer. And also, please forgive me for putting your wallet away when I found it, so I could finish the Tae Bo video. Also, for forgetting where I put your wallet so it's still lost.

Please forgive me for sending you to the pharmacy at midnight to get my Prozac refilled before Yom Kippur. Sorry they wouldn't refill it. Sorry it was because I had refilled it that afternoon. Oops, sorry I forgot about that. Sorry I laughed when you called me from the pharmacy at 1AM. Sorry you got a ticket on the way home. I would feel really bad about it, but, you know, Prozac.

Please forgive me for telling you the banana bread I made had no sugar. It had sugar. A buttload. I know you are trying to cut out sugar, but in my defense, I was really mad at you because you accused me of putting your wallet somewhere and forgetting where I put it. Also, how could you have thought that bread had no sugar? Really? Cinnamon and orange extract? Naive, much? NOTHING without sugar tastes good.

I'm sorry I wrote the shopping list on the back of the note I had written you about the doctor calling to tell you to watch for blood in your urine. And sorry I left the shopping list in the cart at Safeway. Also, sorry that the note was written on the back of an envelope that had your name on it. My bad.

And God, if you are reading this blog, I apologize for blaming you for the three pounds I gained during the Yom Kippur fast.

It was probably the banana bread I carb-loaded on Tuesday. That shit had a ton of sugar.