Sunday Evening Domestic Dramedy, In One (Wee) Act
Mr. Z records live music and is nuts about microphones.
Whenever we watch t.v. he is always pointing out microphones to me. Earlier this evening, the first NFL playoff game ends, there’s a crazy scene on the field, confetti flying in the air:
Mr. Z: Did you see that mic?
Mr. Z: There! There it is! See? It’s on a long boom! Wow! That is a really long boom mic!
Mr. Z: I guess you don’t notice this stuff like I do.
Me: No, I don’t, but that’s okay.
Mr. Z: I just look for mics whenever I am watching tv. See, you aren’t the only nerd in the family! I’m a microphone nerd! Or maybe I’m more of a dweeb. Yeah, a microphone dweeb!
Me: Honey, I wouldn’t be proud of that. In the hierarchy of things, nerds are better than dweebs.
Mr. Z: Really?
Me: Yes, but that’s okay, honey, because you’ve already mated.
Mr. Z: Well, look at me! A dweeb who snagged a nerd! I’m doing pretty good!
Me: Yeah, but I’m not.
Mr. Z: Well, you just need to raise me up to nerd level, then you’ll have something to brag about.
[one or two minutes pass]
Mr. Z: You want to blog that conversation, don’t you?
Me: Yes. Yes, I do.
Mr. Z: That’s what I was afraid of.