Marital Bliss

My children have been remarkably well behaved recently, maybe not as well as some children, but compared to what mine can accomplish, they have certainly toned it down a bit.  Perhaps last night, as they were mulling over past punishments, reminded them of what fiendish consequences I am capable of.  So without my children to provide the jollies, I will have to move on to my poor hapless husband.

After almost 30 years of being together, I am still finding ways of driving him bonkers, it keeps our marriage interesting - at least it does for me.  I copped it the other day, because I apparently didn't replace the cutlery in the right slots - like who cares ?  It's clean and it's in the drawer, good enough for me, for not so for his lordship. He actually accused me of standing on the other side of the room and launching the cutlery at the drawer. That is absolutely ludicrous, I'd never be able to hit anything at that distance. I stand beside the drawer and lob it in. As long as the drawer closes when I'm finished, I consider it a job well done. Of course now that I know that it bothers him, I might try and improve my aim, but I doubt it.

The one area where I am particular is laundry, goodness knows I do enough of it. Rob actually has the audacity to accuse me of being anal, and wasting time by separating the whites from coloureds. He'd be the first to complain if he ended up with pink underwear. And this coming from a man who has an intricate system for his blue boxes. We have more blue boxes than any other house on the street. It's not because we recycle more than the average family, oh no, it's because my OCD husband insists on a different box for each item. Heaven forbid the cardboard  mixes with the paper. It wouldn't be so bad, except that if you have ever watched the recycling truck, everything gets tossed in together. There is nothing that is going to change his mind, and woe betide anyone who messes with his boxes. My friend Helene came over one evening, and knowing how much it would upset him, changed the arrangement of the blue boxes sitting on the lawn. He happened to spot it before he went to bed. I looked out the window and saw blue boxes. He looked out and saw anarchy. He was out there in a shot, in his PJ's putting the boxes back the way they should be, muttering diabolical threats against Helene (he knew exactly who had done it) as he went.

If that wasn't bad enough, a couple of years ago Rob had surgery on his wrist, and hence the duty of taking out the garbage fell to yours truly, throughout his extremely long and drawn out recovery. OMG, it is the closest we have ever come to a divorce (at least until I started blogging). He hovered over me as I was sorting the recycling, going over it one piece at a time, telling me where to put it. I can tell you where I would have liked to have put it.  This was in February, and I'm freezing my ass off, while he is going through his org chart of blue boxes. But wait, it didn't stop there, he trailed behind me as I lugged the boxes down the drive to ensure that I stacked them up correctly. Who the hell cares ? They were in a f***ing snowbank. By the time the snowplough had made another pass, you wouldn't be able to see them anyway.

By the way, I don't want to hear from people, telling me they do the same thing, because it's just not normal.  Usually I pass the posts by my family first - especially the victim - before publishing, but I think this might be one of those times where it will be easier to plead forgiveness, instead of asking permission. There is always the chance Rob will be too busy to read it. Like I said, keeps it interesting.