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I think it’s time to stage an intervention

Hi, my name is Lorenia, and my husband is an addict.

I don’t use the term “addict” lightly — just to make sure you are fully aware of his addiction and will support me when I find the help he needs, let me tell you what happened yesterday…

Our phones occasionally do not register phone calls. I don’t know what it is on George’s phone, but on mine, it happens sometimes when I switch from 3G to WiFi. It’s like my phone just becomes a tiny computer and loses its ability to text or make/receive calls. Yesterday, George was on his way home from work and tried calling me a few times. My phone had been on WiFi, so obviously, no call went through. To him, it appeared that he was calling and it just rang and rang and went straight to voicemail. He knew something must be wrong, because even when I’m mad at him (which I never am, because I am the most patient, even-tempered, kind and sensible woman ever, RIGHT?) I always, always answer (and never with a “Harumph” or a “Yeah, WHAT?” or anything like that, I am sweetness personified, shut uppppp). He began to picture coming home, finding me laying on the floor unconscious, with no pulse, and was brainstorming what to do. Should he carry me to the car and race to the hospital? Should he call the ambulance and wait for them to show up while he embraced me and attempted to resuscitate me? Should he sell the house and get rid of all our shared memories because the pain of remaining here would be too much to bear? (Yes, he actually had these thoughts run through his head. Yes, he actually said as much to me. Think about THAT next time you assume I am the drama queen here.)

Instead of calling a neighbor to have them come over and check I was OK/find my lifeless body being nibbled on by kittens, what did my loving husband do?

I’ll tell you what he did, Internet. He composed, in his head, the tweet he might post for all of you to read in the case of my untimely demise… in 140 characters or less.

“Dear Friends, my beloved wife Lorenia has passed on to the next world. Please, for the love of God, pray for the progress of her soul.”

This is how I know I’m married to a Twitter addict. Let’s find him some help.

Editor’s note: While this post makes him seem kind of silly, that’s obviously because it’s SUPPOSED TO DO SO. I swear George is quite literally a Rocket Scientist.

July 1, 2011   11 Comments