Filed under: Uncategorized
The strangest things drive one mad when residing with the beloved.
Such as, OMG, I can not believe he broke, broke, 3 Loacker Hazelnut wafers in half!! instead of sliding each one out individually to eat whole as a NORMAL person would. Seriously. This wafer thing bothered me so much that even I had to pause…have I become that obsessive?
(perhaps only about my food!)
Or, his friends all went to a Britney Spears concert yet weren’t registered to vote-how can I live with such a person!?
Losing sight of the fact, that not a one of these grave offenses actually confer an inkling of impact on anyone’s quality of life whatsoever (except in my head).
Meanwhile P has to deal with books overtaking the home, mood swings assuaged only by physical exertion, cheesecake, and yet even more books, & he is getting mighty suspicious about the actual costs of all this… birdseed. 30 lb. bags that disappear swiftly into droves of little beaks.
It’s nesting season, I explain, they’re hungrier right now (emptying the feeder on a daily basis). "We have babies to feed", I add, alluding to the mourning dove nesting amidst our pink hanging blooms and the house sparrows nesting kitty corner on the same balcony.
Oh sure, we all get inklings of this during those roomie years when we all find out the capacity for oddness our friends harbor. But at least one does not share the bed and most foodstuff and actual family members with a roomie.
My old roomie Blake and I would have debated about what constituted legitimate breakfast food. He was a routine kinda guy, cereal or bagel on a daily basis. Generally at the same time of day. I’m a bagel/ribs/eggs/fruits/birthday cake/whatever the hell I want for breakfast kinda person. Living with B also meant that beer became one of the main food groups for daily consumption, and that we listened to an ungodly amount of Dave Matthews band.
My mother had to endure her new MIL’s enthusiasm for cleaning other people’s ears with those tiny wooden instruments. eeek.
Fortunately for me, my MIL lives hundreds of miles away so I am spared her enthusiasm for horror movies…While I can understand the cathartic, roller-coaster like thrill some people derive from such flicks, gore & violence are not contents I choose to willingly place into my psyche.
And she doesn’t have to endure a DIL that would rather slop through mudpits on her elbows, run road races & work in disaster zones than knit baby booties & make Pad Thai.
P wanted a spouse unlike his mum, and I wanted one unlike my Dad.
What we’ve gotten is a heckuva lot of balance, yes, but a lot of inane frustration at the absurdity of the other.
I’ve never seen so many spreadsheets in my life. He’s probably never seen a shoe collection like this in his. I can’t fathom how much sleep this man needs, & he can’t fathom why I am ceaselessly plotting my next journey, as ig a jailbreak, out of town (or USA).
moral of the story…Watch what you ask for in life (marriage!).
No Comments so far
Leave a comment
Leave a comment
Line and paragraph breaks automatic, e-mail address never displayed, HTML allowed:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>
