I wouldn’t say that my spouse and I compete when it come to fishing. I wouldn’t exactly say we try to top one another. I’d say we do…data tracking.
We like to track things like who caught the first fish. (Note to self-post picture on Facebook).
Who caught the biggest fish (note to self-Twitter about the nice bass).
Who caught the most fish (note to self-sharpen hubby’s fish knife for him).
This year, I’m adding “who caught the first fish of the year”. Not that I’m the bragging type who’d keep score (note to self-update spreadsheet FISH 2011 after blogging).
Our first fishing trip of the year went like this:
Me: Whoo hoo! Another one!
Him: If you weren't catching fish, I'd be ready to go. It's too windy.
Me: Whoo Hoo! Another one!
Him: I think we should come back later.
Me: Whoopi! Another one!
Him: Great. I just broke the tip of my pole.
Me: So you'll clean these so we can have them for dinner?
Him: Me?! I didn't catch those fish!
Me: No, but that's the agreement.
Him: I didn't agree to cleaning your fish.
Me: Oh yes you did. It was a tacit, implied contract that you agreed to when A) you didn't catch any fish and B) when you accepted that new electric fish knife from me at Christmas. I catch em', you clean 'em, I cook 'em. I'm doing two-thirds of the work.
Him: I think this system is broken. And I want slaw and cornbread with those fish. Beer batter. And cherry pie.
Pie?! There's no pie in this deal. Hmm, I might need to re-negotiate this contract.