On a similar note, if she is sweeping and has created a pile, make sure to walk right through it, no matter where it is. When she looks at you, exasperated, say, “I didn’t know the pile was there.”
Just great, the vein in my forehead is throbbing and you didn’t even get to phase two (aka “I don’t know, honey, they all sound good–you pick.”) Bonus points for phase 3, which is ordering nothing. “Oh, I hate this restaurant. There’s nothing I can eat. But you wanted to come here.”
I think my husband’s single most irritating habit is when he’s watching TV. He is allergic to commercials, so it is medically necessary for him to change the channel a lot. Fine, so he’s usually watching at least two shows at a time, possibly three, and it’s a little annoying. However, it nearly becomes a motive for murder when I’m interested in one of the shows, he knows it, and fails to return to the good channel until I’ve missed something important.
Yeah, that’s a pretty good old stand-by - flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick flick
I’m married to your husband’s mirror image. If we put them together, would their beings merge, or would they annihilate each other like matter and anti-matter?
I think we owe it to the world to find out. 
But then does he ask YOU what happened? That’s part of the scheme.
Or there’s…
“Where should we go?”
“You choose…”
“Fancy an Indian?”
“Not tonight”
“Chinese?”
“Again?” :rolleyes:
“Mexican?”
“It’s always too crowded”
“Pizza?”
“Just doesn’t appeal”
“Italian?”
“We went there last time”
“Tapas?”
“Bit expensive”
…
…
…
“…Any suggestions then?”
“Why is it always me that has to choose?”
:smack:
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa eyes explode from head
I can make blood squirt from SWMBO’s eyes on a regular basis.
I haven’t got the best memory and I occasionally forget to do things. However, I’m (probably overly) fond of telling her that I forgot to do something like pick up the laundry when I actually did.
She gets her revenge by staying up later than I do and sharpening the knives in the kitchen, right at the edge of my hearing level. :eek:
Always, ALWAYS leave the door open on the microwave.
Always, ALWAYS leave the lights on in the garage.
And then tut-tut about how others’ waste so much electricity.
Oh, and this:
Should be a hanging offence.
Every year when I do the taxes:
“Honey, are you sixty-five years of age or older, or blind?”
Not only are you not married, you have never been married, and probably never will be. This is simply impossible. No matter how much you do, in what way, how often, it is never 100% right and never enough. Trust me.
I’m doing a photography course and printing out my assignments on our home inkjet. Oh, she says, you shouldn’t be printing photos on that plain paper! I have glossy paper that will look much better. But that is A3 I say, and this printer only fits A4. Never mind she says, and very kindly cuts it all in half. I thank her and start printing away on it.
Half an hour later - really, 30 minutes - she comes in and sees me printing on her newly cut glossy paper. Why are you using that good paper for those terrible photos, she asks, outraged at the wastage. Argh.
Not necessarily. My husband and I have been married for 28 years and I’ve been sitting here for 10 minutes trying to think of something, anything, that he does that drives me nuts. I was laughing and smiling and :eek:ing at the rest of the posts, but I couldn’t think of anything of my own. Finally I thought of one thing, but it’s so utterly trivial that it’s not worth mentioning. Besides, if I did mention it, he might see the post and be all considerate like he usually is, and stop doing it. Then he’d be perfect and the world would get hit by an asteroid or something.
He, however, could think of a dozen things to post about me, I’m sure. But, he’s such a sweetheart he never would. We were together for 15 years before he happened to mention that he didn’t like clothes hung on doorknobs. That’s something I’ve done all my life, my whole family did it, I never thought a thing about it, ever. I immediately stopped doing it. If I’d known 14 years and 11 months earlier, I would have stopped doing it then. (Of course, when he’s out of town all the doorknobs have clothes on them. I just go around and remove them all before he gets home.)
I so love that man!
This reminds me of the saying: “Women want to see what’s on TV. Men want to see what ELSE is on TV.”
I don’t know you, but I must say you are awesome. This post could have almost been written by my wife except we haven’t been married as long.
He did it for you, Sweet Pea!
(Old Jeff Foxworthy joke about this phenomenon–a woman can get up at 6am on a Saturday morning, clean the whole house from top to bottom while her husband sleeps/watches tv, and be outside resodding the lawn when he’ll come to the front door and announce “Honey, you know that ashtray in my den? Don’t you worry about emptying it, I already took care of it. I did it for you, Sweet Pea!”)
Thanks! If you’re as wonderful (and thankfully tolerant) as my husband, you’ll get there.
When couples quarrel, cats get stuck in the middle.
This!
And snore 