Good God, I’m the dumbest person alive.
So Edward and I walk into my house yesterday, and we’re doing that thing where you talk idly about the weather just for the sake of making noise.
“It’s so nice out...I’m so glad it warmed up.”
“I know; I can’t wait for summer.” (We say this to each other at least once daily; if we were to have a motto, this would be it.)
Then we’re inside, and Edward says
“You should open up some windows!”
To which I reply that I was just about to do that very thing…because I was, and GOD HELP ME if he thinks he thought of it first. So I go to the front living room window and I slide it open with great skill and caution (the house is 89 years old and could quite possibly collapse upon me if I cause too much disturbance). And then I stand back, look at Edward, and make the “ahh, such a beautiful, breezy day” face at him.
He smiles and looks outside, and then his face scrunches up and he bends down to examine the window. A look of understanding quickly flashes in his eyes, and he turns slowly to look back at me.
Then he reaches out and taps the glass…of the storm window. Which is still closed.
“Did you know you have storm windows?”
He turns and opens said storm window, letting in the breezes I was only just imagining before.
“This is a storm window, Frankie. There are two panes of glass here.”
I look at him, sheepish and wide-eyed. The wheels are turning in my head, and I make a little “Op!!” noise as I realize what I’ve done.
“There are two panes of glass here”…so I have to open two windows. Not just one.
“Frankie. Did you know about the storm windows?”
I glance back at Edward, who clearly hopes I did know about them but also obviously recognizes I did not. I start to grin and admit that no, I didn’t realize there was ANOTHER window to be opened. I mean, WTF.
Then he looks at me in a tragically piteous manner, and says
“So…so let me get this straight. You’ve lived here a year, and every time you’ve opened this window…”
He lets the sentence die, because it’s all too pathetic to be voiced out loud.
I’ve lived here FOR A YEAR, and I always open that particular window when it’s nice out. And not once has the damn thing actually been open. Not. Once.
Edward laughs at me, and I join in to show how unphased I am by my retardedness. I mean, the guy now knows I’m a dumbass; he needn’t know I’m humiliated too. Then after lots of incredulous head-shaking, he asks
“Haven’t you ever noticed that you weren’t getting a breeze?”
Long pause. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut in an attempt to make myself or the entire world disappear. And when that doesn’t happen, I sigh and admit (and this is true)
“I just always thought it was a reeeally still day.”
…I am the ultimate douchetard.