Random Ramblings of a Reluctant Blogger

It is one of the modern flash points. One of those ‘Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus’ moments. And pretty much like how no two economists agree, me and my wife never agree on.
Nothing big or serious, but certainly one that crops up almost everyday. The offending contraption _ the pressure cooker. Or to be more precise , that small little part called the ‘whistle’. And to be even more precise, the number of times it sounds.
I am certain, as certain  as I can be, that ever since the cooker has been invented the whistle has led to a different kind of pressure. I can dwell deep into the history of the cooker and its developments thanks to Google, but that’s not the point. The point here is that the offending whistle brings to boil ever other festering issues that had been safely tucked away. Not the whistle per se, but the number of times it hollers out loud.!
No matter what, the lady of the house and I can never agree on the number of times it screamed. And that is one of life’s mysteries that leaves me confounded.
I agree my skills, or the lack of it,  with maths is well known. But to link it to my missing the number of times the  whistle sounded, is to me, too tame an excuse. It has got to do with some devilish design.
I have many times been very conscious and counted three, when my wife comes in to remind me that she has already heard seven. I might have won the argument had the rice come out uncooked, but it has never happened! When then did the other four whistles sound?. How is it that only she heard the whistle even away from the kitchen, whereas I, stationed  right in front of the offending contraption, didn’t. And not just on a few occasions, it has happened time and again. If It is not the work of the devil what else can it be? For no matter what scientific development the cooker has undergone, it certainly cannot send a silent whistle which only one person hears.
“It is because you aren’t interested. It is a boring chore for you,” my wife, dissecting it, says. But that argument I am not willing to accept. Like I said I have consciously counted and have always fallen short. And not just short, many a time I have over-counted. Worried that the whistle has plans to baffle me, I added a few numbers, just to learn that I have been wrong again! If that isn’t playing with my mind, what is? Is some AI at work? I don’t think so. I am more prone to lay the blame on the devil.
To disconcert me even further the ‘whistle’ does this sorcery even when my wife goes into deep meditation. Logically, she should then not be bothered with the mundane, but, maybe the whistle connects  to her telepathically and, off she comes from her meditative state to the kitchen, gives me the look and switches off the gas. “What, I counted only four,” I said. Only to be given a stare.
I won’t be surprised if this ‘silent whistle’ game gets played out spookily in every household.
And forgive me for sounding it out loud, the whistle has added more pressure in my life than it has eased it.