I’m in conversation relapse. I try to share the air, but I’ve got a big mouth and can’t stop talking without an intervention.

“There’s nothing wrong with talking to yourself when you’re alone,” my wife told me, “but when we’re together, I would like to be a part of the conversation.”

How weird is that?

I think if I string enough words together, she’ll find a small portion of them to be moderately redeeming or are even slightly useful and I’ll be the hero. It doesn’t work out as often as I’d like. She prefers me to listen. Again, how weird is that?

Sometimes just to get to make sure I’m paying attention, she’ll call me on the phone from the other room. She knows I’m intimidated by technology and I’ll listen. Even that doesn’t always work. It’s probably because as a kid I had a walkie. I couldn’t afford the talkie.

She asked me, “What are you making for dinner?”

I said, “a request.”

She was not laughing. I talked at her from the kitchen as I cooked a meal. l ask her how her day is and in the same breath, proceed to tell her about mine. I don’t mean to do it that way, but the dialogue comes out of my mouth even before I formulate thoughts in my head. It’s often bad.

I ask her something, answer for her, and then argue with her about what I said. She’s got great ideas. My subconscious mind hears them. I’ll say, “Hey I have an idea.” Then I’ll repeat back to her what she had just said and claim the idea as my own.

“That’s what I just said you door knob,” is her usual response.

I think we reached common ground, though. She’s encouraging me to go out on the lecture circuit and tell other people what to do.

I’m down with that.