Wednesday, March 02, 2005

I Wonder If Anyone Picked It Up, Licked It and Put It Back On the Ground?

The Mr. has amassed a collection of pens. Not just any pens, mind you. Green and white Courtyard Marriott pens. He knows how many he has at all times. It doesn't matter that he has no fewer than 3 opportunities a month to replenish his supply should any die on him or disappear. It is always met with great consternation when I swipe one in a moment of need and do not immediately put it back where I found it. "Where is my pen? Did you take my pen?" he asks.
"What pen?" I ask. I know what pen. He's just so attached to these pens and I find it amusing and necessary to tease him. They're just dressed-up Bics.
"My Marriott pen!"
"But you have 400 of them."
"They're good pens!"

Last night, we were walking to a class taught by a friend where the Mr. was going to lead a q&a about his job. As we made our way to the building, he pulled out his notepad. "Aw, shit! Where's my pen?" He digs through his pockets. No pen. "What happened to my pen?" He was visibly upset. His beloved pen has fallen out of his pocket. It's cold. His pen is out there in the world, freezing. Alone. But there is no time. We are running late. Farewell, faithful servant.

For almost 90 minutes, he led the q&a like a pro. Then we went to dinner for an hour or so. We stopped at 7-Eleven so the Mr. could get M&Ms for his homemade sundae. As we pulled out of the parking lot, he said, "Hold on. I want to find my pen." Mind you, it's pushing 10 p.m. "It's not a freaking Mont Blanc. You have other pens!"
"This is a good pen, though! It's my Marriott pen!"
He parked near where he suspected the pen fell out, pulled up the emergency brake and left the engine running as he jumped out to find the sacred pen. A minute later, he strolled back to the car grinning. Then he pulls it out of his pocket. His pen. THE PEN. I still can't believe he found the stupid thing.

As we drove home, he marveled at the fact that 100 students must have strolled by this little jewel and didn't pick it up. He questioned their industriousness, their taste. Pearls before swine, I guess.