Well, to clarify, she’s a beautiful, capable of verbal communication, non-murderous version of Jason Voorhees.
For those of you who don’t know, Jason Voorhees is the hockey mask wearing killer from the Friday the 13th movies.
In those movies, Jason has one very incredible power (besides killing and not dying). He has the ability to move with incredible speed… but only when nobody is looking. When a potential victim is running from Jason, if she looks back at him, he’s always far away, walking very, very slowly. But if the potential victim looks away – even for a second – then looks back, Jason has somehow managed to get right behind her.
Then it’s slaughter-time.
So my only conclusion is that Jason has super-speed, but it only works when nobody is looking at him.
So back to my wife…
When my wife and I go shopping, my wife’s shopping speed is slow. Very slow.
Drives me nuts.
She moves slowly and she puts enormous amounts of consideration into every purchase, no matter how small the item.
I do my part by standing behind her, quietly groaning and sighing at every opportunity. For me, going shopping should be treated like a heist. Get in, get out. Move fast, make quick decisions, then make a quick exit.
I admit her way saves us money, so I tolerate it.
But here’s the Jason Voorhees part…
When I’m following my slow-motion wife in the store, I know I can’t look away.
If I look away – even for a second – she frickin’ disappears.
Every damn time.
As long as I’m looking at her, she moves with the speed of a turtle with a broken leg. But if I notice something on a shelf and look at it for 5 seconds, when I look back, my wife is always gone. And when I go looking for her, she’s always managed to make it half way-across the store before I find her again.
It’s really amazing.
Slow City as long as I’m looking at her, but one glance away and she apparently moves faster than the Millennium Falcon.
So I’ve come to two conclusions:
1. My wife has the same power as Jason Voorhees.
2. My wife tries to leave me every time we go shopping.
While both realizations are disturbing, I can’t decide which one bothers me more.
I suppose I should just count myself lucky she doesn’t share Jason’s love of slaughter…