Have you ever had an argument with someone, then later it becomes a running joke? Say you argue over something really stupid and can both laugh about it later. Say, housework? I have even been in the middle of an argument and thought about how stupid I was being. Unfortunately, this did not stop me from trying to get my point across and keep arguing. This is what went down with my husband at my house one day.
So, I had had it with my husband. I mean “plotting his death in various scenarios” mad. This time it was about house cleaning. I already know that you cannot fight with a husband about house cleaning because they do not get it. They just think you have PMS or just straight up crazy.
My husband walks in the house from work and walks right past a pile of dog crap. He meticulously avoids the poop and heads directly up the stairs. Did it occur to you that maybe you could pick up the poop and put in in the toilet?
I walk into the same room and see the poop he has just passed! Are you kidding me? It was right in the middle of the walkway and I was stunned he did not step in it!
So, I try to be pleasant and give him the benefit of the doubt. I call up the stairs, “honey, did you not see the pile of dog poop on the floor?”
I usually get one of these two responses. One, “there’s dog poop on the floor? Where?”. Second, “yeah, I saw it, but I figured you would pick it up.” (I am already mentally buying a red dress to wear to his funeral)
I think my husband thinks our house operates like a video game. We spend a good part of the weekend crapping up the house. Most Saturday afternoons both my kitchen table and dining room table are shitted up with stuff. This is due to shopping for groceries, clothes and various other stuff you have to have to live! I am talking if you put one more thing on the table all the stuff would just slide off onto the floor! This occurs almost every weekend. By Sunday night, I am exhausted and wishing I had another weekend day just to put stuff away.
Monday morning comes, and my husband leaves to go to work. Off he goes – lah, lah, lah. He is oblivious to notice that the house is still a nightmare. He swears to me that he can not see what I am talking about. Unless, of course, there is something that he needs in one of our shit piles.
He comes home Monday night, and everything is put away, tidy and clean. He walks in the door and takes his shoes off where he stands. Then he takes a few steps and takes off his socks. They land wherever he is standing. This is followed by a coat, back pack and various other crap he totes around. These also end up wherever he sees fit to drop them. His car keys and wallet usually go missing somewhere in the mix. Most times his wallet ends up next to the toilet. I am not kidding.
One time I tried to ask him to keep his wallet and keys by the door, so he could find them each morning, but he refused. Subsequently, we have a “Monday morning dash” to locate all of his shit all over the house before he leaves for work. So, now I just leave his wallet by the toilet, so he can find it. His car keys vanish on a regular basis, so I just stay out of the way as he cusses and looks for them. I act like I am helping him look for them, but I am faking. I just move stuff around to make him think that I am helping him look for his stuff. I even tried to leave a container by the door to drop all of his stuff in for Monday, but to no avail.
So, he comes home from a very long day at work, as my hubby works very hard. However, once home, he had the audacity to ask me about something not being cleaned that day. Take into account that I have been cleaning all freakin’ day. I lit up like a dried-out Christmas tree, soaked in gasoline! I guess I had PMS. I was so mad, words escaped me. I was trying to get a sentence out to express my anger, but English failed me. I could not put 3 words together to even give him an idea of how mad I was. You could feel the crackling electricity in the air as my brain plotted his demise. How can you love someone so much one minute and in the next minute picking out their coffin?
On some level, I think he sensed the change in me.
I started talking and told him this house was not a video game. I educated him on the fact that there is no “reset” button to push for the house to get clean. You know when you start a new video game things are cleared away. This does not apply to the house.
I further explained that after cleaning it all day that throwing crap everywhere made me crazy. As my voice got a bit louder and stronger, I asked him how he thinks all the house gets cleaned up. I went on to add that there is no such thing as a “sheets fairy” that comes to our house changes the sheets on the beds. My husband always notices when the sheets are fresh on the bed. This could be due to the fact that he sweats when he sleeps. The sheets slowly start smelling like a wet bear.
I went on to ask where he thinks all the beer comes from in the refrigerator. As a dutiful wife, I try to make sure he has a few beers in the frig in case he wants one when he gets home. I elaborated on the process of getting beer in the frig and reminded him there is no such thing as a “beer fairy”. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. This could be due to the fact that he could not get a word in edgewise.
I elaborated on the fact that trying to choose which beer he may want that day seems to change. I let him know that the “beer fairy” is a fairy and not a cotton pickn’ mind reader!
My husband did get some of the point because he knew I was pissed. He did say he appreciated all the things that I do, said he was sorry and I think I heard him whisper “PMS” or “crazy”, but I cannot be sure. I was busy digging his grave in a remote location in my head. This always distracts me when I am trying to listen.
Several weeks later, my husband called me on his way home from work. He asked if there was beer in the frig or did he need to stop and buy some. Seems being a crazy person has its rewards. He was awful nice about it too.
I took the opportunity to be silly and laugh at myself a bit. I told him that he was in luck and that the “beer fairy” did bring some beer to the house. After all, I can not be straight up crazy all the time.
At first, he was taken aback and not sure if I was playing or trying to start a fight. Then he laughed and said,” yeah, for the beer fairy”. Good answer, Sherlock Holmes.
Now, years later, he just texts me and asks if the beer fairy came today.
I guess it shows that even if you have PMS or are just plain crazy, life can still be funny. Learn to laugh at yourself, even if it makes you feel uncomfortable.
I promise, the more you laugh at yourself, the more comfortable it will seem. Eventually, you won’t give a shit if anyone laughs at you! I don’t!
And as for the “beer fairy”, she gets a lot of rewards. More chores are done on the weekends and things the “beer fairy” cannot fix get fixed.
Whatever “fairy” you made need, find it.