I asked Phil if he would bring me a drink of water. He looked at me like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"What? I just want a glass of water."
He raised one eyebrow. Then he want to the sink.
"Wait," I said. "I want half filtered water and half cold water from the fridge."
"A-ha!" he said, "I thought so. You are as bad as your sister."
Now my sister is not bad, she's just particular. She brings her own water into restaurants and asks for an empty glass. If they bring it with ice she asks them to dump it out, "because you don't have filtered water so I bring my own."
I don't do that. I just want water that's not all the way cold because it's not real summer here in Utah yet. It's just almost summer. When it gets to be real summer I will want mostly cold water with just one fourth regular water. If it gets to be scorching summer I'll want all cold water.
"In fact," Phil said, interrupting my thoughts, "you are just like Goldilocks."
"I'm not like Goldilocks."
"Yes you are," he said. "Your level of comfort is about this big." He demonstrated a tiny space between his thumb and forefinger. "Everything--water, the temperature in the car, the amount of covers on your bed--everything has to be "just right."
I'll bet the story of Goldilocks and the Three Bears was written by a husband.