Let's just call it TLI, Too Little Information

O.K., so my husband would probably say that he suffers from me delivering TMI. Now, I don't see this at all. I merely can juggle numerous tasks and vital pieces of information at once. Yes, I am a brilliant multi-tasker, except when really important things seem to fall through the cracks - like not remembering my nephew's birthday, whom I love so... much and now feel like CRAPOLA because I forgot his birthday. But, that aside, I am able to handle quite a bit of material that seems to overwhelm Sir husbando.

Just for an example, his sister calls with the news that one of her daughter's is engaged. I merely ask:

How did he propose?
Where did he propose?
When are they getting married?
Was she surprised?
Did she cry?

This delicate assortment of questions appears to him to be a barrage of questions and brings about a kind of stricken deer-caught-in-the-headlights look upon my husband's face. And his answer is always the same:

I don't know. I didn't ask her that, he says.

Well, what the hell did you talk about anyway? I mean, your sister calls to tell you that your niece is engaged and what?... you talk about something else!

Now, if it had been me, I would have had the answers to all of those questions and more. I would have waxed eloquently on and on, probably losing ol' hubby mid-stream. We, as women, perhaps offer up a bit of TMI, but I think it is about time that we agreed that there is a far more serious problem. And I'm naming it TLI. Too Little Information. It is rampant, all around us. We are surrounded by men bearing little more than ...she's getting married. If we get that much. Sometimes, important news like that is not even delivered and I find out about it ...well, 3 months later. I'm always the last to know and it is all due to TLI. We might as well be playing telephone without a receiver.

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