Recently my sister, Jennifer, helped her friend plan a surprise 50th birthday party for her husband. That was all good until the day of the party. It was my brother-in-law, John’s, responsibility to keep him out of the house until about 4. His wife told him she was having friends over for a “spa party.” He didn’t understand why he couldn’t just hang out in the garage. “We’ll all be in robes, that’s why.”
As the day progressed, he got angrier and angrier. He thought his wife had lost her mind. Or maybe she was going through menopause. It was all John could do to keep him from going home and confronting his wife about kicking him out of his own home on a Saturday.
Meanwhile, back at the “spa” his wife and Jennifer and another friend are decorating. Birthday Boy’s wife was pretty stressed about starting off the day with a fight. At first she was picky about how things looked, but then she started to drink. And then accepted a little pill from her friend who said “these help me relax.” The more they decorated, the more she drank, the less she cared. “Oh, put it wherever you want…”
“You’re my girls…” slurred its way out of her mouth many, many times.
So, 4 p.m. rolls around — not soon enough for Birthday Boy. Coming down the street he see a zillion cars. “What kind of a party is this, still going on this late??!!”
He storms in, only to be have his anger immediately diffused by all of his friends shouting “Surprise!” He smiled and hugged every one. His wife was still a little on the schnockered side, but that would wear off soon enough.