The other night I told my wife I needed some pencils. We were down to one full size pencil left in the house and she was using it to solve a puzzle book, and I was using the little pencils you steal from Ikea. Hey if they’re going to charge me twenty bucks for a plastic stool I’m going to come home with a pocket full of those tiny little pencils, OK? OK.

I grabbed the cheapest pile of standard pencils I could find. She looked at me like I was stupid and grabbed a super duper expensive mechanical pencil and asked me if I prefer B or H.

“Uh, I really have no idea. I don’t even know the difference.”

“What do you mean you have no idea? How could you not know? What have you been using all this time?”

“I guess I just grab a HB and hedge my bets.”

“Oh my God, you really don’t know the difference do you? I thought you were the artist of the family. FOR SHAME.”

So she explains what B and H mean and I try out pencilling a Plant-Man page with my fancy new mechanical B pencil and holy flying catfish on a weekend bender, I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on all this good stuff for all these years!

I’m still living down the shame of my wife, someone who has to be strong-armed into drawing so much as a stick figure, having to teach me the difference between H and B pencils.

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