Stuff your better half does that drives you crazy

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
81

See, that’s why I never understood why some couples divide labour that way (that if one cooks the other does the dishes).

You see while I am cooking, I am also cleaning up (loading or unloading the dishwasher, stacking hand wash dishes, wiping counters). When I am done cooking, there is very little cleanup to do (other than get the dishes that we ate out of off the table, put them in the dishwasher and press start).

Whereas when my husband cooks, he does not clean up as he goes. The kitchen looks like a bomb hit it.

Why should I clean up his disorganized mess? We just take turns cooking and clean when it is our cooking night.

82

This is an awesome way of dealing with it. I also usually end up with a cleaner kitchen after cooking than before, mostly because I just dump stuff on the counters throughout the day.

My husband however believes that him cooking dinner starts and ends with taking a plate of prepared meat from me, placing it on the grill and returning it to me slightly charred. Side dishes, preparation of the meat, grabbing a clean plate to put the charred meat on - all of those are apparently not included in dinner preparation.

83

I’m sorry for your loss. I hope you’re doing well.

My husband and I are great together when we’re traveling, except that we have very different tastes in music: he favors 70s and 80s rock, which I mostly can’t stand, and I prefer folk-rock and indie music, which he generally hates. Road trips were frustrating on both sides until we started downloading audio books we were both interested in to listen to.

He loves to talk, but he can’t tell a story in a straightforward manner; it always involves a series of digressions and a degree of detail that no one else is interested in. It used to drive me up the wall, but I’ve learned how to just wait him out or gently interrupt to get him back on track. Unfortunately, I sometimes tune him out by accident when he’s describing in detail something I’m not interested in.

Cleaning generally. He doesn’t always put things away when he’s done with them, so I end up doing it, which usually takes less than a minute, but still. And neither of us likes cleaning, so it’s always a big job when we finally get around to it, but I can usually only get about half an hour of work out of him before he quits or thinks it’s good enough. And he’s always saying he’ll do the dishes while I’m out for the evening or something and not follow through. To me, that’s like breaking a promise, but I’ve finally realized that it’s not as significant for him, so I shouldn’t treat it so seriously or thank him before he actually follows through.

84

My partner alternates–unpredictably–between completing tasks in a meandering, aimless fashion and attacking them as though she’s being timed and graded.

In Scenario A, a trip to the grocery store could mean that we take one pass through the cereal aisle and get the child’s favorite brand. Two aisles later, partner exclaims she is also out of her favorite cereal brand and goes to fetch it. Meanwhile, I wait where she left me. When she doesn’t return in a few minutes, I backtrack to the cereal aisle, where there’s no sign of her. Sighing, I then venture back along the main aisle, checking each aisle, usually with no luck. When I finally give up and call her on her cell, the response is usually something like, “Well, I’m looking at the new variety of olive oil they got in, of course! Didn’t I tell you we needed it?”

In Scenario B, she darts quickly from one aisle to the next, outstripping my pace. I usually follow her as quickly as I can with the result that we forget at least one thing from the store—I prefer to hit each aisle once and don’t ever backtrack while I’m there.

The worst is when she combines the two with a meandering while shopping pace, and then when she sees the register line she’ll do some frantic line-dive to avoid being stuck behind someone who’s old, has many items, or otherwise looks like they’ll take a long time to check out.

85

It’s time once again for Mrs. Morbo And The Case Of The Thief That Steals Her Belongings

Our story begins, as always, with the morning reveal:

Mrs. Morbo: “Someone stole my driver’s license!”
Inspector Morbo: “My sources tell me that the notorious home invader that breaks in and purloins driver’s licenses, keys, and passports, aka ‘Le Cambriouleur,’ was apprehended weeks ago, so it is time to think outside the box.” ::paces, smokes pipe:: “I say! Is it… in your pants you were wearing last night?”

::twenty minutes later::

Inspector Morbo: “Did you find it?”
Mrs. Morbo: “Shutup.”

~~ Fin ~~

86

+1, would read again!

87

Where’s the “like” button? Because I would click that for the Adventures of Inspector Morbo…

My own husband, on his own, is mostly sweet and wonderful and cuddly and perfect for me. Add a communication device, though, and I often want to toss him out of a moving vehicle. Examples:

He stops mid-sentence to check a text message, and woe unto the fellow conversationalist if he doesn’t have his glasses handy - it will take forever for Mr. M to translate those little squiggles and reply, and glaciers move and children grow and new technology is introduced before the conversation restarts.

He checks his Facebook messages at the dinner table. (Seriously?!?!)

He wants me to drop everything and watch yet another Youtube video of some stupid camper/RV that I don’t give a rat’s ass about. (And there’s not one thing about me that would lead my husband or anyone else to believe that I’m the outdoorsy/camping type. I pay my bills so that I can sleep indoors with central heat and air and handy indoor plumbing and hot water and stuff.)

If he leaves the house, he will telephone 826 times before returning home - and always when I’ve just gotten the baby to sleep, or have raw ground beef all over my hands, or if I’ve just soaped up my hair in the shower. (And it’s even worse right now, since I am “taking it easy” at home, per doctor’s orders, and Mr. M is doing a lot of the chores that I normally handle. Picking up the girl after math team practice involves a game of 20 Questions - and 20 Phone Calls - even though it’s the same every week - 3:15 pm on Thursdays at the school, which is located in exactly the same spot as last week. The most precise grocery list on the planet, with item, quantity, and price listed in order of the shelves at the grocery store, requires more telephone calls than the SALT treaties. “Yes darling, the Granny Smith apples are SUPPOSED to be green.” “I know that the sign says ‘10 for $10.00.’ I want three of that item. That will be 3.00. No, you don't have to buy ten to get the sale price." "Please get the ham that's on sale for .99 per pound. Not the one that’s $4.00 per pound. That’s why I wrote on the list Brand Name/Item/Sale price. If there are none of the sale ones in the case, ask the butcher. No, don’t buy the expensive one. Yes, I know that a whole ham is enormous. Really.”)

Watching television involves either Mr. M becoming so absorbed that the children may set his chair on fire before he notices them being naughty, or him telling me all about whatever is on the screen right in front of me. (He thinks I’m not paying attention if I happen to be reading a book simultaneously. Even though he has literally NEVER seen me sit down to watch TV without a book, my laptop, laundry to fold, something else to occupy the rest of my attention.)

Other than that, he’s mostly perfect…

88

THIS. “Hey, honey, come watch this guy! He’s got a rare striped guttersnipe that only lives in the furthest reaches of the Manchurian rat forest!” Cue eight minute YouTube video that contains three seconds of interesting footage. Maybe.

And what I came in to post about: inviting people over without asking me if it’s okay. This morning, I discovered that we are having three couples over for burgers tomorrow night, along with their seven children (in addition to our own two). Honestly, I love these people and it’s normally no problem. They’re low-maintenance and their kids are well-behaved.

But we’re also having two couples (with four accompanying children) over tonight. A meal to which he will contribute zero help including cleanup, and will probably arrive late for. And Sunday, after church (where I arrive at 7:15 because I’m singing this week), I am busy all day with family events for his family.

So now, you know how much downtime I’ll have this weekend? NONE. I was keeping Saturday open on purpose, you thoughtless boob. No, saying you’ll grill the burgers does not help. Will you also figure out all the sides? The drinks? Make sure we’ve got enough paper plates and cups? Drag both preschool kids with you on the last-minute run to the store to get buns? Make sure the house is presentable? Help clean up from Friday night’s dinner?

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Wow. I’m really in a bad mood. I need to go find something to punch so I don’t end up yelling at the kids for no reason.

89

OK, this is relevant to my previous post about how cockdamned slow my husband is at certain tasks. One of the reasons that he is so slow about doing the dishes is that he meticulously pre-cleans all of the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. Not only is this a waste of time and water, but it leads to situations like this morning, when I open the dishwasher and see, “Oh, the dishes are clean, I’ll start unloading them,” and after doing a few, I realize there’s sort of a slightly greasy feel to them instead of the normal squeaky-clean feel, and on very close inspection, I realize that this is a dishwasher full of nominally dirty dishes, so I have to get the ones I already put away back out of the cabinets and run the dishwasher. Oh, and that’s the other thing: He frequently fills the dishwasher until it is completely full and then fails to run it. I think it’s because he’s pathologically frugal and is always thinking, “But I could get one more plate in there, so I shouldn’t run it yet,” even when one plate is the only thing you could fit in, and failing to run the dishwasher now means that after the next meal, we will have stacks of dirty dishes that either have to sit out unwashed while the dishwasher runs, or that have to be hand-washed.

Normally I like his frugal tendencies. They keep us solvent. But in this case 1) I don’t think he’s actually saving any money, based on all the water he wastes pre-washing the dishes, and 2) it’s annoying as hell.

90

Just thought of another one: my wife will continue to argue her side of an issue even if I agree with her.

Her: Let’s get 10
Me: Okay
Her: Because 12 is too many, but 8 is too few
Me: Okay
Her: because if you sister brings a guest and someone else wants a second one, we won’t have enough.
Me: Okay
Her: You know, your brother is a big eater and could easily eat three, and on and on.

I’ve asked her why she does this and she said that she had her argument all prepared and that it would be a waste not to use it.

91

MsWhatsit, my husband will help me out by emptying the dishwasher. And stacking all the clean dishes on the counter. So I can put them away!

92

That is so sweet! I’ll bet you hardly ever feel like dropping them on his head.

93

I just remembered my #2 complaint: after shower, hanging wet facecloths on the towel rack, on top of the towels. WTF?

94

Waxwinged tends to do things without the necessary preparation.

For example: She needs a specific bowl from the cabinet but there are drinking glasses in front of it.

Logical way to get the bowl:

  1. Remove glasses from cabinet
  2. Remove bowl
  3. Replace glasses.

Her way:

  1. Reach behind glasses and try to maneuver the bowl around the glasses
  2. Locate broom to clean up broken drinking glass
  3. Locate mop to clean up spilled potting soil that was leaning against the broom
  4. Sweep up broken glass
  5. Mop up potting soil
  6. Return broom to closet
  7. Mop up potting soil spilled while returning broom
  8. Return mop to closet
95

I enjoy cooking, whereas my husband’s idea of fixing a meal is dumping a can of fruit cocktail into a pan of scrambled eggs.

However, I refuse to cook in a dirty kitchen.

Ergo, I cook tasty food, and he keeps things tidy. It works out beautifully for us. (I usually do clean as I go, but there’s always something left to clean up.)

96

He tends to get jittery and pugnacious under the influence of caffeine, so he

Quits Coffee Forever!

about eight times a year. He doesn’t have the patience to do the tapering-down method to avoid the caffeine withdrawal miseries, so this means he’ll have a day or two of crippling headaches and muzzy-headedness and general crabbiness.

Then he’s unable to stay off of it and starts drinking it again in about four days to a week. I usually lay bets with myself as to the day he’ll start up again and I’m usually accurate.

So the natural result of decades of this behavior is that I sprain my eyeball muscles rolling my eyes to the ceiling when he

Quits Coffee Forever!

again.

97

He always seems to assume that I have all the relevant information when he’s having a conversation with me. This usually happens via text while he’s at work when he’ll initiate a conversation about some goings on there but he’ll start the conversation somewhere in the middle as if I should just KNOW everything that came before. It’s pissing me off just thinking about it and I don’t even have a good example because it hasn’t happened yet today.

…

I’ve been sitting here thinking about it for a few moments and I can’t even effectively simulate such a conversation because it is so far beyond my capabilities to be that completely fucking obnoxious.

Also, he decided to quit letting the toddler have PB&J (which he loves because he’s a toddler) because, “It’s just so MESSY and hard to CLEAN.” He’s absolutely right, PB&J is hard to clean off a high chair tomorrow, which wouldn’t be a problem if he would just CLEAN THE GODDAMNED HIGH CHAIR OFF RIGHT AWAY BEFORE I STAB YOU, OMG!!! Nope, we’ll just stop letting the toddler eat sandwiches. :smack:

98

She’ll say “Come here. There’s something I want to show you on the computer”. I walk over and look at the screen. She spends the next several minutes clicking and looking. And clicking. And looking some more. I now just say “When you have it let me know and I’ll come running”. She says I’m being mean.

Or calling my name in order to start a conversation when I’m in a different part of the house. (I’m pretty sure that there’s a switch on the toilet that lets her know when its being used but I can’t find it) If you want to talk to me, get up off the couch and come find me. My daughter seems to have learned this trick as well.

And don’t even get me started on the TV remote.

99

This reminds me of another. When she’s on her laptop and she clicks on something, if it doesn’t open up IMMEDIATELY, she goes friggin’ click-crazy and clicks it again. And again. And again. She was complaining of her laptop running slow the other night while she was surfing and when I looked at her screen she had, and I shit you not, 18 IE windows in the taskbar.

That, plus she’ll open any friggin’ attachment her mom or aunt sends her. I was cleaning up her computer after a particularly nasty virus and I said, “Honey, you’ve got to stop opening email attachments that you’re not sure about.” Her response was, “But it came from my mom.” Ugh.

100

Arguing!

Some favorite habits that are so endearing include:

  1. Moved goalposts
  2. Bringing back old hurts from yesteryear, regardless of whether they have anything to do with the topic at hand.

… and, my #1 with a bullet favorite… (drumroll please)

  1. Turning it into a discussion about her (unless, of course, the topic is her, in which case the preferred topic is me (see #2))*.

*Actually, this happens a lot when we’re not arguing. For example, a discussion about Sophie’s homework goes something like this:

“Sophie got a 65 today on Math.” (her)
“Well, she needs to study harder or go to bed earlier - didn’t she finally go to bed at 10:15 the night before?”
“What can I do to improve this? I feel like I’m failing her somehow.”
“I thought we were talking about Sophie, who already does homework 2-3 hours a night, every night.”
“Yes, but I’m trying to see if I’m doing everything possible…”

(repeat ad infinitum, about any damn topic.)

:rolleyes:

One favorite discussion device is to relate Sophie’s childhood to Mom’s. Problem: The two childhood’s are nothing alike.

Sophie: Grew up comfortably middle-class, has lived in 2 houses her entire life, devoted parents with a father who is an active participant in her life, has a near obscenely-healthy diet, plays sports/video games, well-traveled (Europe/NYC/LA/other places), has lots of friends and is deeply involved in the emotional turbulence that is 4th grade, well-educated with goals of going to an Ivy League or Public Ivy, is a fun, out-going kid with a great demeanor and disposition.

Mom: Grew up poor, moved 11 times in 13 years so was always the new kid in her school, devoted mom with a Dad who was emotionally distant and preferred not to be bothered, never participated in sports or other group activities, never saw a video game until her 12th year, ate crap food (like Spam and mayo sandwiches for dinner), never traveled except for funerals, college was something that boys did but we might get you in the JUCO school, and was always distant from the other kids and didn’t want to be bothered.

I tell Laura that their experiences are completely different and that she’s doing Sophie a disfavor by trying to relate daughters life to moms (“When I was a kid, we never played video games!” “Laura, when you were a kid you were flat-ass broke and video games were played by boys almost exclusively anyway.”)

Doesn’t help.