It Talks Weird to Its Husband

Now that I’ve written two posts in a row about perverts, now for something amusing.(Although my husband said, “You still managed to make that funny!”)

This is rather demented though.

It was one of my goals in life not to be one of those naggy wives who henpecks her husband to death about a bunch of trivial matters.  Before I complain about anything, I ask myself, “Is this really worth mentioning?  Does it matter?”  I figure if I’m going to make a request, make it over something important.  I also don’t want to be a control freak, but sometimes trivial matters start to get to me.

Before I tell this story, I need to mention the background.  Back when we had regular TV with a working antenna (the digital convertor box never worked), we were flipping through channels when we came upon an awful scene where a woman is being held in a pit.  It was Silence of the Lambs.  We watched it long enough to figure out her captor’s plan, which was to do unspeakable things with her skin.  I could not get over this weirdo’s voice.  Whenever there’s a weird voice, I just can’t resist impersonating it.  Trying not to acknowledge that she’s a person with feelings, he calls down to her, “It puts the lotion on the skin.”  Something like that.  One of the most bizarre scenes ever.

Fast forward five years or so.  You know how every surface in your house can become a storage area for random stuff?  Our table was covered in stuff.  The dresser I beautified with a decorative basket and some candles?  It was soon overflowing with stuff.  The kitchen counter – stuff.  Our entertainment center – stuff!  Stuff, stuff, stuff!

I felt like I was entitled to at least one sacred space:  The fireplace mantle.  I wanted to have one spot to look at where I could think, “Isn’t that so pretty?”  Picture frames.  Candles.  A beautiful painting above it.

Then my husband started a nightly ritual of putting on lotion while we watched TV after his shower, as recommended by dermatologists.  Every morning the bottle of lotion was on our fireplace mantle, which was the surface closest to him.  I would say nothing, opting to return it to the bathroom closet.  “It doesn’t matter.” I told myself.  “There are worse things.”

One day I had friends coming to visit.  I did some crisis cleaning and as we were chatting, I think my eyes bugged out when I saw once again, the lotion was on the mantle!  “They must be wondering what kind of weirdo stores their lotion on the fireplace mantle!” I thought irrationally.  I couldn’t ignore it.  I hastily grabbed it and put it back again.

Later that night, we were watching TV.  He was applying lotion.  How could I bring up the issue without making a big deal about it?  He could say, “Oh yeah!  Well you leave the kitchen cupboards open!”  Actually, he does say this.  He says I’m trying to kill him.  Being short, they pose no risk to me, but he hits his head on them.  It’s a fair complaint.

Anyway, I suddenly found myself doing the creepy voice.  “It puts the lotion on the skin.  And when it’s done, it doesn’t put it on the fireplace mantle.”  He laughed his butt off.  Yay!  It wasn’t a big deal and the point was taken.

The next night, he told me in the same voice, “It puts the lotion on top of the piano.”  “NO IT DOESN’T!” I yelled creepily.

Maybe we should teach a seminar on conflict resolution in marriage?  :p  “Step 3:  Try suggesting things using the voice of a serial killer.”

Seriously though, I think 90% of marital arguments are probably stupid and based on something that was said or misunderstood while one or both parties was stressed or hungry.

I’m going to bed now.  Maybe it will rub my back?




Eating Your Husband’s Chocolate: A Self-Help Guide

I don’t suppose this is a common problem, but if your husband is a chocolate hoarder and has a stash within your reach during difficult moments, you’re going to need some justifications that he will accept and still want to be married to you.

First, some reasons why you may need to eat his chocolate.

  1.  You only got 7 1/2 hours of sleep or less.
  2. People are being annoying.
  3. You were on hold for a lengthy amount of time.
  4. You were on hold for a short amount of time.
  5. You had to call a business that asks you to speak your answer and there were children yelling in the background, causing the wrong option to be chosen no less than ten times.  Just give up and yell, “CHOCOLATE!!!!”  There’s a special place in Hell for these people who don’t think about the many mothers who can’t get a quiet moment and therefore can’t use voice activated systems.  Maybe I’m taking it a bit overboard?  No.  No I’m not.  Give it a try sometime.  You’ll feel homicidal in no time.
  6. You like chocolate a lot.  If it’s been there for 6 months, it’s obviously not that important to him.
  7. It’s bad for his health.  You’re just taking one for the team!
  8. You’re hormonal.  Either you’re on your period, ovulating, pregnant, menopausal, or on any day in your cycle.
  9. You’re sick.  *cough cough*  See?  I’m sick right now.
  10. You’re doing taxes.
  11. It’s expired.  You love him and don’t want him to die.
  12. You realize the real reason he saves it is for you.  HE LOVES YOU.

As an example, the other day I was looking for something in my husband’s special drawer (I was looking for chocolate) and I noticed an astounding amount of uneaten chocolate still leftover from Christmas and maybe even earlier.  You can’t just flaunt Almond Roca in my face (in your drawer) and expect me not to eat it!

And that Milka bar?  It expired last month!  HE LET EUROPEAN CHOCOLATE EXPIRE?!  This morning I took some life saving measures and decided to eat part of it to see if it was OK.  It was delicious.  But if I left some of it in the wrapper, he would know I ate some.  Now I had to commit to eating the whole thing.  What was I going to do – put it in my drawer and save it for later?  I would never do that.

But now I had some explaining to do.  Would the expiration story be enough?  So I started working on our taxes and he knows how much I detest doing that.  I obviously deserved the chocolate!  But now that I’m done working on them (except I’m waiting on one form), I feel like I need chocolate again.  His chocolate pistachio bar is not expired.  Do I change the expiration date with a pen or do I exercise some self-control?

Whatever you do, if you write a blog post about eating his chocolate, don’t show it to him.  I could go out and buy him more chocolate, but let’s face it.  I will eat it in 6 months.