Today’s blog entry is dedicated to one of the most misunderstood creatures on the planet – the American Domestic Husband. Let me demonstrate:
We began this morning with a stern warning from the husband not to move the prescription bottles sitting on top of the microwave into different positions. It might lead to someone taking the wrong medication. To which my 12 year-old replied, “I always look at the bottle before taking my medicine”. To which my husband replied, “Just don’t do it! If I take the wrong medicine I might DIE!”
Trust me honey, taking 10mg of his ADHD medicine won’t do as much to you as if he mistakenly took one of your little blue pills. I’d hate to see THAT mix-up! But you’re right. If no one moves them to the left or the right, I think the world will be a much safer place.
Then I loaded the dishwasher. I put a mixing bowl on the otherwise empty bottom rack. I came back and it was in the sink, on top of the saucepan and Tupperware container that were already waiting to be washed.
“Why is this back in here?” (Kind of an obvious question, I know.)
He said, “It’s too big to be in the dishwasher.” Seriously.
Okay, I’ll give the guy credit. There was no soapy water in the sink, which everyone knows is the signal that dirty dishes need to be washed. My fault. Totally.
Finally, there was much ado when the husband decided to clean the kitchen ceiling fan. He came downstairs with the vacuum cleaner and scolded me for not putting it away when I used it the other day. This continued as he searched high and low for the attachments, all the while complaining about how people never put things away! I told him to just use a rag and wipe it off. He said, “Do you know how long it will take me if I use a rag!?” I want to say, probably not as long as searching the whole house for the vacuum attachments? Just a thought.
Eventually, I got the ceiling fan brush from the garage. “Here. Use this”. I swiped a blade. He told me I was doing it wrong. I walked away.
Again, completely my fault. I should never attempt to clean a ceiling fan without a spotter.
Side note: The brush is still in the middle of the kitchen, four hours later. I’m leaving it there. At least we’ll know where it is the next time.
It must be awful to be so misunderstood. I feel for you honey. If you weren’t such a GOD, I would think it was you. Luckily I understand that it’s me just misunderstanding you and being a big poopyhead wife.
Whew. We sure are lucky..till death do us part.