Marriage and Turkey Sandwiches


I should start this post with a confession that I get really moody when I’m hungry.  It’s a condition, and I can’t help it. That being said, this is a story of marriage and forgiveness. 

Bryan and I went to Target on Saturday morning in search of this adorable gray linen office chair I had seen online. I had spent most of Friday completely redoing our office/guest room, including making some new art for the desk, creating a craft corner, and rearranging the book shelf. What can I say? I’ve been in a mood lately. If I didn’t know better I would say I was nesting. But since I am most definitely NOT pregnant, I’ll just blame it on spring and my slightly (very) OCD personality.  I’ve been all about the organizing and redecorating, and this chair was the final piece of my vision.

Bryan (bless him) goes along with my decorating whims. He cares nothing about aesthetics or design, a fact that became abundantly clear when he asked me if we could hang the fleece Charlotte Hornets blanket we got for free at a game on the wall in our living room. Seriously. So in spite of his desire to spend his Saturday doing absolutely anything else, he went with me to Target.

We got to Target, and after a mandatory stop at Starbucks, we headed back to the furniture section. We quickly found the spot where the chair should have been, but it wasn’t there. Bryan tracked down a nice gentleman in khakis and a red shirt who confirmed that they didn’t have any more in stock. “But hey, we’ll probably get more in soon!” Thanks for the positive energy man, but I didn’t get my chair and a meltdown is quickly approaching. Thankfully, my favorite barista was working that day so I was able to console myself with an extra delicious mocha frappucino.

(I should also mention that the chair isn’t sold online. Otherwise it would have been on our doorstep about a week ago when I found it. But it’s only sold in stores, so there we were.)

Bryan, ever the problem solver, found the chair online and discovered that it was in stock at the other Target in town. Hallelujah! We were off. We drove to the other Target, grabbed a cart, and headed back to the furniture section. My good mood was back thanks to newfound hope in my pretty chair and the fact that I still had over half my coffee left (and I had just seen the cutest baby). When we got to the back of the store, we once again found the spot where our chair should have been. AND IT WASN’T THERE! I didn’t panic. Target’s website said it was there, so it was probably just in the back. No problem—let’s just find another friendly person in khakis to track down our chair. A woman came over, scanned the barcode with her little handheld machine, pressed some buttons, and then declared, “Sorry, it looks like we’re out.”

Excuse me. FOR THE LOVE.

We tried to explain to the lady that clearly she was mistaken (because the website said so, and technology NEVER leads us astray), but she just apologized and said maybe someone had bought it that morning. And now I was really getting upset. Because even though a chair may not seem like cause for an emotional breakdown to most people (like my husband), it was the final piece of my project. And I hate leaving a project unfinished—especially when finishing the project involves buying pretty things.

As we walked back to the car, Bryan gently suggested that I try the Target in the town where I work next week and that we go get some lunch. Fine. Whatever. That’s when things started to go bad. On the way home, we tried to figure out where to stop for lunch. I didn’t know what I wanted to eat nor did I feel like making any helpful suggestions (because at that point it was about an hour past when I should have eaten—again, it’s a condition. I can’t help it). Bryan threw out a ton of options that I vetoed, and we ultimately decided just to go home. Then we were stopped at a stoplight, and I smelled these delicious smells coming from the burger place on the other side of the street. That’s what I want! I suggested it to Bryan in a sort of I-don’t-care-whatever-you-want kind of way (because when you’ve already made a big dramatic stink about where you’re going for lunch, you have to save face and not appear too eager). He started attempting to get across the four lanes of traffic he needed to in order to make the turn while trying to determine if that was really what I wanted. Finally, I just shouted, “NEVER MIND JUST GO HOME!” And bless his heart, he thought that’s what I really wanted. It was no use explaining to him that I expected him to be able to read my mind and realize that yes, in fact, I DID want the burger. Instead I just pouted in the passenger seat while Bryan expressed his frustration at my lack of decision-making skills.

When we got home Bryan went into our room and (understandably) shut the door. And I started making lunch. I toasted sandwich bread and pulled out turkey, cheese, and all the condiments. I pulled out two plates and made us both a turkey sandwich (heavy on the cheese and mayo, light on the veggies). I added some Doritos to his plates and picked up my own plate to go watch The Pioneer Woman while I ate.

Bryan came out of the room, put his hands on my shoulders, and said, “Thank you for making me lunch. Would you also like to apologize for being crazy?” I looked at him, looked back at the sandwich I had just made, and then said as sweetly as I could (because I still hadn’t eaten yet!), “That’s my apology—sitting on your plate.”

Because sometimes it’s hard to admit when you’re wrong, and you make your husband a turkey sandwich as a peace offering.

And sometimes that’s marriage—grace, forgiveness, and a turkey sandwich.

*Photo Source


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