Please note that it is nearly impossible for a person to concentrate right now because the husband is making such a spectacle of the hoops game his college alma mater is currently winning. I hope they don't call for donations this evening, as I fear how much he would write the check out for in his celebratory fog. I would consider relocating to another room, but trust me the volume of the clapping, pounding on furniture and general shouting is inescapable. In this cacophony, it is amusing to consider how much time I spent this week contemplating the possible meanings behind the blank stare responses I have been getting. Obviously I should've tried dribbling a ball through the kitchen while seeking assistance.
I saw one blank stare this week that I am pretty sure should be classified as the "Possum (that is an opossum with an identity crisis) Defense". This was a situation in which husband thought that if he played dead, the perceived predator would just leave him alone and keep right on walking. To be fair, I think I had just asked for some help with something he was not interested in. To be even more fair, I think my phrasing might have indicated that I was taking an offensive position. Here, maybe you can judge this one for yourself (or commence blank stare):
Help. I asked for some help. People don't just always write books alone you know? Haven't you ever read those acknowledgement pages? You know the ones where they thank the people who helped? Well, I am not going to thank you.
I grew up being told that the issue wasn't necessarily what I had said, but the tone of voice I chose to say it in. Reflecting back on my announcement here, I am not sure there is any tone of voice that would've kept a possum upright.
The is another blank stare that we could call "In case of fire". Under these circumstances, the man here is mentally consulting the safety chart of how to diffuse certain types of kitchen fires. Will the addition of words be like water on a grease fire acting as an accelerant? Where the heck is the fire extinguisher, or can I just throw a lid or wet blanket on her? Earlier this week, the husband went out on a limb with the dousing technique he employed:
I walked over to the computer desk to finish up a blog post I had been working on to find one of his fabulous Peggle games in progress. I calmly asked if he had closed out of what I was working on, and he began laughing...really hard...tear forming laughter. When he finally composed himself, he responded that he had. Well played, as my confusion over his response won out over any hostility. Plus, he had just finished an hour on the elliptical (and no, again did not wear my pedometer), so I was concerned that he was having some sort of weird exercise-induced hallucination.
The least effective blank stare around here is the "Who is she talking to?" Unfortunately, this is becoming the most commonly used, especially since he has two trainees who are quick studies. Seriously, if all three of them are sitting in the same room, and only four of us live here, who else might I be talking to? Yes, someone had the nerve to guess it was the dog...who was using his "For crying out loud I am a dog" blank stare.
The last type of blank stare, I have identified this week, happens when my typically melodious voice suffers some sort of audio distortion. The result must sound like the droning buzz of a bee, which then elicits the "Just ignore it and it will go away". Sometimes this is paired with several quiet steps in the opposite direction.
Hey! You, yes you! Are your eyes glazing over? Just the glare from the computer? Oh, okay.