domestic communication

D, as we all know, measures once, measures twice, utters none.

While he gives his best impression of a lump of clay if you meet him in a social setting he didn't initiate or willingly enter, a few beers later you can hardly stop his profound articulation.

Don't get me wrong, he is incredibly sharp-witted and smart, just never wants to exercise that side of himself much unless he believes it is warranted.

However, domestic communication has reached a nice new comfort level thanks to his chronic minimalistic approach.

Me: (rattling pots and pans a little for effect) Why do I always have to do the dishes? Cooks shouldn't have to clean up. In fact didn't we agree on that house rule when we got married? How come you won't help out?
D: (acting all hurt) That's not true, I do the dishes too, you know.
Me: Y-ha. Every 20 times I do the dishes, you unload the dishwasher once.
D: Thank you!
Me: ????? huh? what for? it's the truth!
D: Right, glad you agreed. Not true that you *always* do it.
Me: (rolling eyes, throwing up hands in the air, shaking the head - and doing it all with much-practiced ease)

To be totally fair, I admit, words fail me at times. I blame it on age.

Me: darn! (with an imaginary knife in one hand, buttering an imaginary toast on the other) where's the thing?
D: Peeler? look in the other drawer.

Yep, somehow, over the years, my gestured things have gotten the correct response over 90% of the time in the first round. Perhaps the props helped - like the pile of carrots, potatoes and the cutting board...