Saturday Morning Emo - Part Deux (my husband's, this time)

Some time ago, I wrote a post entitled "Saturday Morning Emo".  It was a sharing of my emotional state as my husband readied himself for his day of work at his part-time job.  I typically miss him before he leaves and have to "man up", not allowing him to see my sadness.  While he wouldn't prefer to work every possible hour available to him, he does it with joy, because he takes his role as "provider" very seriously.  That said, our weekend morning conversations are comprised of him sharing news stories and sipping coffee.  Wait.  He's told me before that "men don't sip coffee, hon...they drink it."  Let's try this again.  He drinks his coffee and shares news stories.  I sip mine and try not to miss him before he's left.  He remains joyfully aloof, I hold my emo together with the equivalent of 1 finger.  He ties the 25 feet worth of boot string on each boot and peacefully sets out about his day. 

Not today.

He was silent as the news stories unfolded.  When the coffee was finished, he stood up and began to mumble in frustration.  He walked his mug to the kitchen (it's that large that it must be walked) and dropped it into the sink, creating a ruckus.  He proceeded into the living room, still mumbling.  Finally, I asked the million dollar question.

"What's wrong?"

And then it began.

him:  "Nuthin'.  They want me to learn the computer today.  I don't DO that.  I drive the truck."  (he's so cute, because his response is always 'nuthin', followed by the thought.  My daughter does this too)
me:  "what do you have to do on the computer?"
him:  "I have to learn how to sell the trees in it"
me, calmly:  "okay, I'm sure the girl will show you"
him:  "yeah...you know how you fly all around that thing in netbanking?  THAT is how she'll 'show' me.  She'll say, 'you do this, this, and that and that's it'.  Then, she'll leave.  Maybe nobody will come in to buy trees today."
me:  "it'll be ok, hon"
him:   :::incoherent mumbling:::
basset hound:   :::opening one eye, closing it:::

Oh I get it now.  It's not only the computer, it's the fact that numbers are involved.  My husband is allergic to numbers.  They give him hives.  But put numbers on a computer screen and ask him to do something with them?  Anaphylactic reaction.  This is why he put me in charge of the banking way, way back.  When a man in church challenged him on that with, "as the man of the house, you should be in charge of the money", his response was, "because I'm the man of this house, I recognize what I can and can't do.  That's why I put her in charge." 

Case in point?  Several years ago, when I went through the significant cognitive flare of forgetting my passwords, my extension at work, even our own phone number, he would not take over the checkbook.  He said, "it's just a flare, right?  It'll go away.  These creditors can wait 'til you're feeling better."  I called my mother in to help me.  And fairly recently, I asked if he wanted to learn our new bank's netbanking, he stuck his fingers in his ears and said, "la la la la la la". 

Literally.

It's okay, honey:-)  I love you.  But I'm going to post your picture on here so everyone can visualize you with your fingers in your ears, making noises so as to avoid an allergic reaction to numbers on computer screens.  Because it's who I am.  And you love it.