Last night after we had our prayer together Andrew said "amen," but it sounded like he was laughing so I asked him what he was laughing about.
"Nothing," he said, "I just happened to be exhaling while I was talking."
"Really?" I said. "You know, I usually exhale when I talk, too."
"Really!?" exclaimed Andrew. Then about three seconds later he said, "Oh, yeah. I guess you would. Ummm...maybe I was inhaling while I was talking, then."
"You go ahead and try that," I suggested.
So he did. It's possible. It's just hard. And sounds like a...dying person. Not that I've ever talked to a dying person, but I can imagine.
Andrew is very smart but sometimes he puts his foot in his mouth, especially late at night. Though it's possible that he does it more often during the day and I only know about it in the evening because that's when I get to talk to him.
A couple of weeks ago we had to get some financial paperwork together, but a lot of it was paperwork that he needed to gather. He asked me to remind him what information he needed, so I proceeded to list them out for him. In his defense, it was around midnight at the time.
"You'll need your school schedule, proof of the dollar amount of your scholarship and tuition, and..."
He interrupted me with a request.
"Can you just email this to me tomorrow or something?" he said, then felt it necessary to explain, "Don't worry. I'm not ignoring you. I'm just not listening."
What he wanted, I'm sure, was to have this information in the form of a list, and since he didn't have anything handy to make a list with he wanted me to still be responsible for giving the information to him when he could put it on his list.
I actually kind of envy his ability to make lists. He has a whole list-keeping system he uses that is colour-coded by priority. He has a secret list that he keeps where he writes down gift ideas for me throughout the year so whenever I say anything like, "If only I had a..." he writes it down. He's the one who introduced me to the world of Google Calendar, which I would hardly survive without anymore and yet am usually the one who forgets to calendar things, conning myself into thinking that I'll "remember that for sure," while he always enters things immediately. He's the budget-keeper and paper-filer. He's the one who taught me how to tag blog posts before label clouds were cool and before they became not-so-cool. And his desk is nearly always clean—something else I'm envious of because mine always seems to be littered with everything from hair ribbons to storybooks to broken toys to novels to important papers.
No wonder one of the first questions he asked me while we were dating was if I had a scripture marking system—he's very system-oriented!
He still tsk-tsks at me when he sees my scriptures because I still haven't adopted his (grid-based, colour-coded) scripture marking system. It was the least I could do to make a (mental) note to myself to send him an email in the morning that neatly listed all the information he needed to gather.
"Nothing," he said, "I just happened to be exhaling while I was talking."
"Really?" I said. "You know, I usually exhale when I talk, too."
"Really!?" exclaimed Andrew. Then about three seconds later he said, "Oh, yeah. I guess you would. Ummm...maybe I was inhaling while I was talking, then."
"You go ahead and try that," I suggested.
So he did. It's possible. It's just hard. And sounds like a...dying person. Not that I've ever talked to a dying person, but I can imagine.
Andrew is very smart but sometimes he puts his foot in his mouth, especially late at night. Though it's possible that he does it more often during the day and I only know about it in the evening because that's when I get to talk to him.
A couple of weeks ago we had to get some financial paperwork together, but a lot of it was paperwork that he needed to gather. He asked me to remind him what information he needed, so I proceeded to list them out for him. In his defense, it was around midnight at the time.
"You'll need your school schedule, proof of the dollar amount of your scholarship and tuition, and..."
He interrupted me with a request.
"Can you just email this to me tomorrow or something?" he said, then felt it necessary to explain, "Don't worry. I'm not ignoring you. I'm just not listening."
What he wanted, I'm sure, was to have this information in the form of a list, and since he didn't have anything handy to make a list with he wanted me to still be responsible for giving the information to him when he could put it on his list.
I actually kind of envy his ability to make lists. He has a whole list-keeping system he uses that is colour-coded by priority. He has a secret list that he keeps where he writes down gift ideas for me throughout the year so whenever I say anything like, "If only I had a..." he writes it down. He's the one who introduced me to the world of Google Calendar, which I would hardly survive without anymore and yet am usually the one who forgets to calendar things, conning myself into thinking that I'll "remember that for sure," while he always enters things immediately. He's the budget-keeper and paper-filer. He's the one who taught me how to tag blog posts before label clouds were cool and before they became not-so-cool. And his desk is nearly always clean—something else I'm envious of because mine always seems to be littered with everything from hair ribbons to storybooks to broken toys to novels to important papers.
No wonder one of the first questions he asked me while we were dating was if I had a scripture marking system—he's very system-oriented!
He still tsk-tsks at me when he sees my scriptures because I still haven't adopted his (grid-based, colour-coded) scripture marking system. It was the least I could do to make a (mental) note to myself to send him an email in the morning that neatly listed all the information he needed to gather.
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