‘No, never. And I mean never.’ Why can’t he understand. It seems so simple. The color is Chartreuse. And he should know because he drinks enough of it. But when I ask him to pick up a specific blouse of a specific color at a specific store, I wonder what clouds his mind or his eyes or his brain. He can’t be color blind. He so right on when I ask him how the top and pants I’m wearing go together. And he dresses so well.

But the blouse he got wasn’t chartreuse. And I’ll never wear that other color, whatever it’s called. Doesn’t look good on me. Can’t be that he doesn’t love me. I know he does. Guess the only way to marital peace is that I’m indulgent of his stupidity. And that means a trip to the store myself. Oh, well.