Come on– admit it. You’ve thought about it, haven’t you? You’ve toyed with the idea of removing the sash from your fuzzy bathrobe in the middle of the night, wrapping it around your husband’s neck while he gently sleeps, and voilà! No more snoring. No more bed-hogging. Then you remember that not only is it wrong, but you really don’t have enough money to fund a fugitive life in Brazil. Neither do I.
But every now and then, my husband does or says something that sends me over the wall. And just as I’m reaching for the nine-inch AllClad frying pan, my little voice pipes up and reminds me why I married him. Lucky for him. I haven’t yet tallied up all the reasons I said, “I do,” because there are just too many to count. But my list of reasons why “I might” is etched upon my brain like a Dürer masterpiece. Here are a few choice selections:
1. Because I can. It’s the last thing he’d ever expect me to do. Besides, thanks to his volcanic snoring, I’m an insomniac bitch. I could just plead insanity, right?
2. He snores. If I could add up the number of sheep I’ve lost count of due to his Richter scale snoring, well, Bo Peep would have my hide. Trust me.
3. Occasionally I dream about being single again. Of course, my particular fantasy is trapped in the early 1990s when I was still young, not bad looking, and had a waistline. Now that I’m over 40, no matter how much I work out and how little I eat, my girth doesn’t go anywhere. It just lingers like the houseguest from hell, laughing its fatty little ass off at me “Go ahead, sucker, do another 5,000 sit-ups. It doesn’t matter. I’m never leaving!” But I digress…
4. He says I complain too much. According to my loving spouse, I’m a chronic malcontent; I’ve elevated complaining to an Olympic event, and I’m the gold medalist. Why not, I ask? There is SO much to whine about – money, secessionists, recessionists, money, revisionists, divisionists, religious fanatics, tea drinkers, tea dumpers, money, baristas, terroristas, fashionistas – what the hell, all the istas…ad infinitum, nauseam and hominem. Besides, I’m an ace complainer, and my daddy always said I should capitalize on my talent. Good thing it wasn’t tightrope walking or titty dancing, huh?
5. He works at home a little too often. The man has an office – why doesn’t he USE it? If I had a place to hang my laptop, I’d be there faster than you can say, “See ya!” But he’d rather hijack all the downstairs public space and spread his crap everywhere. The thing is, our home is my office, and I want to work, read, do research, even eat lunch, all by myself. In silence. Is that so much to ask?
6. There’s always “one more thing.” I’m usually three-quarters of the way upstairs, or naked and turning on the shower, or just sitting down at the computer with a great idea in my head, when I hear the telltale “Sweetie, do you have a second?” chasing me down, and I have to come stomping back down because I can’t seem to hear two flights up anymore. It’s like being trapped in a never-ending episode of “Columbo.”
7. He doesn’t think we need a cleaning lady. To which I say, really? Think not? Maybe it’s because he never cleans anything, except his teeth. One day of cleaning toilets, vacuuming and dusting will change his mind. Guaranteed.
8. He doesn’t get cold. So he keeps the thermostat in polar bear territory. Our house is so cold I have to wear a granny shawl and gloves when I’m not moving around. And even with a space heater, my office feels as frigid as International Falls, Minnesota. Can anyone think of a better reason to strangle him?
9. He spills. Nearly every article of clothing he owns sports some kind of stain on it. It’s like an itinerary of his activities: a splash of red wine from the Christmas Eve party, a grease spot from Friday night pizza, a dab of soy sauce from a gyoza that missed its mark, dark black lines from an unknown garden tool. I could live with it, really, if only his proclivity for getting dirty hadn’t, in a nasty twist of genetic backstabbery, been passed on to my younger son. Now I live with two Pig-Pens. I probably deserve it.
10. He’s accident prone. This one’s a no-brainer. Since we’ve been together, he has broken his ankle (surgery), his toe (the same one three times), a mysterious little bone – the hamate – in both hands (one surgery so far) because he tripped while jogging, and required hospitalization in a foreign country for a systemic invasion of poison ivy. Need I go on?
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not sitting around all day thinking of a way to pop my husband’s cork. It’s only when he pisses me off, or wakes me up in the middle of night, damages another part of his body, or calls me on something and I know he’s right (which pisses me off even more). The rest of the time, I am largely content, if not besotted in that mid-life kind of way, and wondering where he keeps his own list. I’d just love to get a look at it.
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8 comments:
He's a good guy, smart as a whip, and a hard worker. Loves his kids, loves his wife. That says a lot. Plus he's from the Midwest. (That says nothing, although it's odd that he doesn't mind a little confrontation and has no affinity for chain restaurants.)
But you should definitely get the housekeeper. You live in a great big house and who has time for all that?
The snoring: There's some device you can get to make that go away. A visit to the dentist, I think. My ex did the same, and now he has said gadget, and it's apparently helping.
I'm going to tell Chris how loyal a defender he has in you...nose tape or something like that is what some men use. Although I have to admit that the sleep-talking (really entire conversations with unseen people) has been more of an annoyance lately than the snoring!
this reminds me something i LOVE recalling: when i first had a cleaning woman come to the house (about five years ago, i think) i was so happy (oh, sooooo!) i said to a friend of David's i finally know how it feels to be a man: you enter the house. its clean. all's in order. it smells wonderful. and i'm not exhausted!!! amazing! To which that clever guy responded: See, you have no idea how it is!!! When a man gets into the house after the cleaner was there, he notices nothing. all seems the same.
as for the snoring -- did you try whistling?? i'm not joking. my mother taught me this -- apparently, it works perfect with my dad. with david... so, so... try it.
but do -- definitely!!! -- get a cleaner! tomorrow mornign (i don't believe you don't have one. i absolutely refuse to!!)
posted by:__________(YOUR NAME HERE.)
HE: Just leave that laundry, I'll do it.
SHE THINKS: Really? No, I mean really - would that be when hell freezes over??
SHE SAYS: But I need some clean underwear NOW. I'll just do it.
HE: Just leave those dishes. I'll get them.
SHE THINKS: Like hell. Would that be just before the poisonous red science grows or just after there are so many dishes in the sink there is room for no more.
SHE SAYS: I'll do it just to go on and get it done.
SHE THINKS: Yes, a maid would do wonders!!
SHE ANSWERS HERSELF: yes, and people in hell want ice water but they don't get it, do they?
A devilish activity, having complete conversations with yourself.
Hell: The Theme.
Does hell have a theme song that I can get stuck in my head? Lord I hope not!
Ah, Cristina, you know I could never relate to such a... such a VIOLENT post about a Beloved and Loving Family Member! No. When my family does things like leave every door and drawer open in their wake, and every light on, and every dirty dish in its new location, I simply remind myself that they are doing their best! Yes! And that in the big picture, things like this just don't matter!
If only. In fact I mentally commit familicide (of various members) on a regular basis, despite the fact that I love them and would miss their noisy and deeply annoying selves dreadfully if I woke up one day to a permanently silent house.
You really captured the feeling--but I am afraid this goes both ways at our home. Not sure who would strangle first!
There is NO QUESTION about the housekeeper - having one is why I'm still married! As to the snoring let me know if anything works - Mike's snores (espcially after a little red wine)are shaking the walls now!
I'm going to get some nose tape and start whistling! Although, my DH usually wants to substitute duct tape when tape is needed...hmmmm...
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