Who Loves Ya, Baby?
So I dearly love my husband, and I wouldn't trade him for the world. Yet as much you love someone, there are always certain idiosyncracies that drive the people they live with bonkers.
Hubba-hubba is a "food fad" type of person. He will occasionally buy something new at the grocery store, and find out that he likes it. Then, it will be as if life had never been as fulfilling since he tasted that product. He will eat it every day if he can, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. Then, with no warning, that product is dead to him. He doesn't even want to smell it anymore, much less eat it. This happens of course, just after I have stocked up on it.
Knowing the way I fold laundry, (which is to throw it in the dryer if it is wrinkly, as I own practically nothing anymore that requires ironing) why does he always throw a wet load in the dryer right before I have a chance to de-wrinkle it? Perhaps it is his passive-aggressive way of telling me to do a better job with the laundry.
Seriously, the man cannot pick up his own socks. You would think that was such a cliche that he would make an effort to do it, but he just doesn't seem to be able to.
He cannot remember how to get to my sister's house, even though she has lived there for 6 years and we go over there a minimum of once a month. More passive-aggressiveness? I don't know why, since my family likes him better than me. They almost always take his side in an argument, even when he is wrong.
He claims to be an "organizer" yet the garage has crap hapharzardly stacked everywhere. His system for bills is to stick them in a certain cubbyhole.
He refuses on even 90+ degree days to wear sandals. There is nothing wrong with his feet, he has great legs, so nothing to be embarassed about. But he claims that the sandals don't give him enough support, so he roasts.
Another cliche, he cannot match clothes. He likes to pair the same top and bottom color. Why, they are the same color, he claims with shock when I order him to change, so what could be wrong!?
He says he is a detail oriented person. Yet he does not notice the toddler with the chocolate-smeared face who is about to jump off the top of the table onto the tiled floor.
Despite his college degree and above-average common sense, he tends to lean towards what I term "witch doctor" medical solutions. If a colleague tells him that all you have to do to make your athelete's foot go away is to rub onion powder on your feet twice a day while chanting, "Oooga Boooga" Hubba-hubba is always willing to give it a try.
I don't mean to complain, he is a great guy and has many more good qualities than bad. I am positive that if he were to write a similar piece about me, it would wipe out the memory on our hard drive. Can you tell that it is PMS week?
Hubba-hubba is a "food fad" type of person. He will occasionally buy something new at the grocery store, and find out that he likes it. Then, it will be as if life had never been as fulfilling since he tasted that product. He will eat it every day if he can, sometimes for weeks, sometimes for months. Then, with no warning, that product is dead to him. He doesn't even want to smell it anymore, much less eat it. This happens of course, just after I have stocked up on it.
Knowing the way I fold laundry, (which is to throw it in the dryer if it is wrinkly, as I own practically nothing anymore that requires ironing) why does he always throw a wet load in the dryer right before I have a chance to de-wrinkle it? Perhaps it is his passive-aggressive way of telling me to do a better job with the laundry.
Seriously, the man cannot pick up his own socks. You would think that was such a cliche that he would make an effort to do it, but he just doesn't seem to be able to.
He cannot remember how to get to my sister's house, even though she has lived there for 6 years and we go over there a minimum of once a month. More passive-aggressiveness? I don't know why, since my family likes him better than me. They almost always take his side in an argument, even when he is wrong.
He claims to be an "organizer" yet the garage has crap hapharzardly stacked everywhere. His system for bills is to stick them in a certain cubbyhole.
He refuses on even 90+ degree days to wear sandals. There is nothing wrong with his feet, he has great legs, so nothing to be embarassed about. But he claims that the sandals don't give him enough support, so he roasts.
Another cliche, he cannot match clothes. He likes to pair the same top and bottom color. Why, they are the same color, he claims with shock when I order him to change, so what could be wrong!?
He says he is a detail oriented person. Yet he does not notice the toddler with the chocolate-smeared face who is about to jump off the top of the table onto the tiled floor.
Despite his college degree and above-average common sense, he tends to lean towards what I term "witch doctor" medical solutions. If a colleague tells him that all you have to do to make your athelete's foot go away is to rub onion powder on your feet twice a day while chanting, "Oooga Boooga" Hubba-hubba is always willing to give it a try.
I don't mean to complain, he is a great guy and has many more good qualities than bad. I am positive that if he were to write a similar piece about me, it would wipe out the memory on our hard drive. Can you tell that it is PMS week?
Comments
Although I have to give him credit for not being able to match clothes because he is colour blind.
I gotta admit though, I don't envy you picking up your hubba hubba's stinky onion powder socks. STINKY!
I think your problems are all due to improper training. That's right, Gina. PMS or no, it's all your fault. :)