Bliss

Wouldn't marriage be easier if you never had to nag your spouse?

This follows up with the couple from Matchmaker, some years later.

Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash

George parked his car in the garage. Under the rumble of the closing door, he could hear his phone chime. Of course.

He picked it up and read his instructions. The app said, Don’t complain about work. Ask her about her day.

Going into the house, he found Barbara finishing up dinner.

“Hi, honey, welcome home.” She added a kiss to the greeting.

“Hey. How did your day go?”

“Fine. I was grocery shopping while the kids were at the play center and I ran into Mrs. Randolph at the store. Well, she told me . . .”

George listened as Barbara relayed the gossip. Another couple in their subdivision was fighting over a suspected affair. He concentrated on remembering the names. The app was storing this conversation with voice to text. Tomorrow on his coffee break he’d be presented with a multiple choice quiz about this, unless the app decided he was being a good enough conversationalist and went easy on him.

“Daddy’s home!” Eleanor and James rushed in, hugged him, and rushed back to their play. Tony, the youngest, toddled after them into the kitchen, waved at him, and then turned and followed as the older kids ran past.

As the story finished, George said, “He seemed like such a nice guy at the block party. I can’t believe he’s acting like such an idiot.”

“Well, some men.” She went back to stirring the pots.

George peeked in on the kids then set the table for dinner. He’d received enough reminders from the app he didn’t need to be hassled about it any more.

Herding the kids to their seats was the hard part of dinner, but once they caught a whiff of the meal they were suddenly hungry which made it easier. George popped Tony into his high chair.

Dinner was something new, beef and veggies with noodles in brown gravy. There were some spices he was unfamiliar with which added some savor. The app must have recommended a new recipe. “I like this,” he told her.

“Thanks. It’s not that bad. The worst part is having to start the different parts cooking at different times, but . . .” She waved at her phone, sitting face down on the table. The app’s cooking routines would prompt you to take actions at the right time.

After dinner his phone chimed again. Trash night. Check bathroom trash cans. Recycling is also going out.

George sighed and took a trash bag from under the kitchen sink. A pass through the house collected trash from all three bathrooms, and also the play room. A few minutes of rinsing cans and breaking down boxes filled the recycling bin.

Both the trash and recycling bins were on wheels, so he could haul them to the end of the driveway together, one towed in each hand. Once they were set in place his phone chimed. Photograph front of house.

He took four pictures, capturing the whole front yard. The grass was fine, but he’d probably be told to trim the hedges this weekend.

Once back inside it was obvious bedtime was under way. George took charge of making Eleanor brush her teeth and change into pajamas while Barbara wrangled the boys.

As Eleanor climbed into bed, his phone chimed. He didn’t need to look at it to know what it said. He asked, “Would you like a bedtime story?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, wait for your brothers.”

James came in followed by Tony. Eleanor said, “It’s storytime!”

The boys jumped into their beds without complaint.

Barbara turned the nursery light off.

George tried to think of a story. All that came to mind was Cinderella, which he’d told them yesterday. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and started reading off the screen. “Once upon a time there was a poor boy named Jack, who lived with his widowed mother in a tiny shack.”

---

Barbara listened to the story for a moment. Her husband was good at holding their attention, putting the dramatic voices in for the giant and witch.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out. Check pots are soaking.

She went back to the kitchen. Most of the dishes could wait until morning, but a few needed to soak or she’d be scrubbing them until noon.

Once she was done with that another reminder popped up. Utility bills due.

That Barbara could handle from the couch. She sat down and picked up her laptop. Three websites later, the bills were caught up.

Ask George about his day.

George came in and sat down next to her with a sigh. Barbara cuddled up to him. “How’s work going?” she asked.

“Oh, God. It’s such a pain in the ass. You remember the new project manager, Azim?”

Barbara nodded. She kept track of George’s managers and important co-workers. Some days the app would demand she fill out an organization chart of his department.

“He called a meeting to rewrite the customer specifications, but he hadn’t coordinated with the customer rep. So he wanted us to . . .”

She nodded in all the right spots, letting him get the complaints off his chest. When he trailed off she hugged him, resting her head on his chest.

George hugged her back. After a minute or two he said, “Want to watch the next episode?”

“Uh-huh.”

The app had recommended this miniseries as being in the overlap of their tastes. They were enjoying it, but not enough to binge it. They couldn’t take the time to binge anyway. Tomorrow was a school day, George had to be in the office and Barbara had to get the kids ready.

When the show was over they chatted about it for a few minutes. He offered his predictions about the path of the plot. She commented on a developing character relationship.

Then they needed to get ready for bed.

While Barbara was changing into her nightie, her phone buzzed. George is stressed and horny. Some things you could do for him are: and it listed four options.

She thought for a moment. Most would take more energy than she had right now, but she could do something. He was putting up with a lot at work.

She looked through the open door of the master bathroom. He was rinsing off his toothbrush. When he put it in the cup, Barbara said, “Turn around.”

He did. “What’s up?”

She knelt down.

“Oh.”

A few minutes later George was much more relaxed.

He said, “Whee. Thank you. What can I do for you?”

“Mmmm. Let me have a good night’s sleep?”

“Okay. But that seems unfair. You’re being very good to me.”

Barbara stood and kissed him. “Let me sleep in Saturday, and we’ll see what happens.”

“Of course.”

They both knew the app was listening, and would program a wake up call for George on Saturday, so he could chase the children while she slept.

When they lay down George was asleep in a moment. Barbara stared at the ceiling in the dark. She couldn’t even make up her mind what to fret about. Money. Tony’s speech delay. George’s work trouble.

Her phone started playing classical music, loud enough to soothe her, but low enough it wouldn’t wake George.

She smiled. The app did take care of them. Had it picked up that she was worrying? Or just that she was awake?

The music wasn’t a piece she recognized. She picked up the phone to check the listing. The display read, Four Seasons by Vivaldi. Under that was HAPPILY-EVER-AFTER 2.5 by WFH Division of Humanoids, Inc.

She put it back down. The temptation to delete the app from her phone came up again. But it was helpful. It helped her keep track of tasks she might forget. And if she deleted it, George would too, and then she’d have to remind him about anything he forgot.

Better to let the app handle it.

More stories by Karl K. Gallagher are on Amazon and Audible.