Every once in a while, I like to offer my wife examples of things an idiot would say

The AI-generated wife in this picture is looking at her AI-generated husband the way my real-life wife sometimes looks at me.

This is a fairly common exchange between me and my bride of many years:

ME (cleaning up the kitchen after dinner): What should I do with your glass of water? Dump it out?

TERRY: You should leave it it where it is and not touch it so I can have some later.

ME: Yes, of course! I knew that, but I wanted to show you what an idiot might ask in this situation.

This happens all the time. I ask what ultimately turns out to be a dumb question, and when I hear the answer, my only chance at recovery is humor.

Other situations in which I end up having to offer the "I was just letting you know what an idiot might say" defense include, but are certainly not limited to:

• When I'm looking for something in our house and she points me toward its easily discernible (for a non-idiot) location
• When I'm unloading the dishwasher and ask – for what may be the 37th time – which black plastic kitchen tools go in the tool turnabout and which ones go in the sliding drawer to the right
• When I ask what she's doing today after she has already told me twice
• When I'm trying desperately to open a package from the wrong end and she gently points out the "tear here" direction on the other side
• When I ask what time our family get-together starts instead of just looking at the calendar on the fridge
• When I'm trying to put something together and somehow miss the very clearly marked Tab A that goes into Slot B

And so on.

I view all of this as a helpful service. Without me, my wife would never know how to identify an idiot in her life.

Even though she has lived with one for 33 years.

One time I almost got lost forever inside a BJ's Wholesale Club

Remember when I told you people really only want to read about me being an idiot? There is no better example of this than what happened four years ago tomorrow.

It was September 12, 2019, when I took what could only be termed an ill-fated trip to BJ's Wholesale Club in Willoughby, Ohio. I had never been to the store by myself, as Terry owned our family membership and was always the one to shop there.

That is, until she got sick and sent me. I chronicled my experience through a Facebook post and a series of associated comments, and it remains one of the most heavily engaged FB items I've ever written. People couldn't get enough of me bumbling through the store trying desperately to find the items on Terry's list.

It was recently pointed out by longtime readers Pam Andrykovitch and Maria Telisman that the BJs misadventure really should have been included in my book. The only reason it wasn't was because I had never actually talked about it here in the blog, so it never came up for consideration when I was selecting posts for the book.

Clearly, though, it's a story that should be recorded for posterity in blog format. What follows is an account of that memorable trip as told through a series of Facebook screen shots. I hope the text is legible and that you will still hold me in somewhat high regard after reading it.

Judging by the numbers, people only want to read about me being an idiot

I've been doing this blog thing on and off for nearly 12 years, and for a long time I couldn't figure out what made some posts more popular than others.

The headline is a key difference-maker, of course. Much like the subject line of an email, the headline is the first thing people see when I put up a new post. It goes a long way toward ultimately deciding whether someone clicks through, so I always try to be thoughtful about it.

As I looked over some blog metrics recently, it dawned on me the posts that get the highest number of page views are the ones in which I am portrayed as either:

(a) stupid

or

(b) strange

Whenever I find a way to combine "dumb Scott" and "weird Scott" into one post, I hit the reader engagement jackpot.

Actually, I also do OK with "sweet and endearing," like when I point out how awesome Terry is and how much I love her. But in the long run, the heartfelt posts – and the ones where I offer practical advice like how to get rid of bad habits – don't hold a candle, in terms of page views, to the ones in which I am the object of my own ridicule.

Speaking of Terry, I mentioned this insight to her the other day. I told her, "I guess I need to find more examples of me being dumb or ridiculous, because that's what people most want to see on the blog."

Without looking up from the book she was reading, she dryly remarked, "Well, you have a long list of stories to choose from."

I may need to revisit the part where I mentioned how much I love her.