A Disagreement To Bring The House Down

, , , , | Romantic | October 13, 2017

Early in my marriage, it became quickly apparent that my new wife had much higher, and therefore pricier, standards when it came to residences than I did. We were both from areas with much cheaper housing than Seattle, but at that time I was the only one who seemed to allow that to re-shape my expectations of where I could live. Sometimes I’d bring up a neighborhood I’d like to live in, and she’d recoil in horror; by her standards, such places were run-down and trashy, whereas by my standards they were quite reasonable and quaint.

One day we were driving on a particular stretch of highway that had notoriously bad traffic, and I noticed that my gas gauge was precariously low. I was coming up on the last exit before I would get onto the bridge heading into Seattle, and I wasn’t confident I could make it to the city on what I had, given the traffic. So, I took the exit and started looking for a gas station in the small township outside of Seattle. My wife was admiring the nice yards and homes and said calmly, “See? This is the kind of neighborhood I could live in.”

I replied, “Honey, this is Bill Gates’s neighborhood.” I gave her a “give me a break” look.

She got the message and saw her issue. Our standards still don’t match, but the gap is considerably smaller than it was.

He Can Go Sleep In The Garage

, , , , , | Romantic | October 12, 2017

(Our two-car garage is a mess. My husband insists I have to help tidy it.)

Husband: “We’ll take sides; you do that side and I’ll do this side. Most of the things on your side are yours.”

(I get to work tidying my side. He’s constantly watching so I don’t throw out anything that might remotely be his. If he’s not doing that, he’s fiddling around with his tools, not actually doing any tidying. I get my side looking good, and even set up a table so I can do some crafting out there. It’s taken me half the day, and his side has barely been touched.)

Me: “Okay, I’m finished, just in time to cook dinner.”

(It takes about half an hour to cook the dinner, and when it’s ready, I call my husband in.)

Me: “Are you going to continue cleaning after you eat?”

Husband: “I’m completely finished; my side of the garage is clean.”

(I couldn’t believe that he’d taken just half an hour to do it, after doing almost nothing out there for almost four hours. I walked out to find that the mess and rubbish from his side had now been moved to my side. The next day, he showed his brother his tidy side of the garage and what my side looks like. His brother has often called me lazy in the past, and this is no exception. My husband now wonders why I have to take photos of everything I do.)

Wazoo Cramps

, , , , , , | Romantic | October 11, 2017

(My wife has a love-hate relationship with ibuprofen: it makes her drowsy, but it’s also the only thing that soothes her menstrual cramps.)

Wife: “Ooh… cramps just kicked in. Ibuprofen up the wazoo.”

Me: “That seems less than ideal. I don’t think your body will absorb it properly if you put it up your wazoo.”

Wife: “Oh, my God. You’re ridiculous.”

A Very Touching Disaster

, , , , | Romantic | October 10, 2017

(My boyfriend and I are in bed, getting ready to go to sleep. He has an old down pillow that he sleeps with. He grabs the pillow from behind his head and slaps it down over his legs.)

Me: “So, that’s why I keep finding feathers.”

Boyfriend: “No, it’s not.”

(He throws the pillow back up and then smacks it down on his legs again, except this time the pillow actually rips in half and spills feathers all over the bed. He lays there and stares at the mess, as I laugh so hard I almost cry. I run to the bathroom as he is stuffing the pillow and most of the feathers into the trash. When I return, he is walking out the front door.)

Me: “What are you doing?”

Boyfriend: “I just shook out the blanket off the porch, and now I have to find whatever it is I just flung across the yard that was in the blanket.”

Me: *still laughing* “I bet it was the TV remote. You better not have lost the batteries. We don’t have any more.”

(Sure enough, the remote is in the yard, and he manages to find the batteries in the grass. I start to laugh again as he hands them to me before he walks back inside.)

Me: “You’re not allowed to touch things.”

(I put the batteries back in the remote and set it back onto the bed before heading to the kitchen. I pass by the cat who is sitting on the edge of the couch as my boyfriend is walking towards us.)

Me: “[Cat], run! Don’t let him touch you!”

Boyfriend: “Ha. Ha.”

(A few seconds later, I hear a “thwack” sound followed by, “God d*** it.” I look back into the bedroom and my boyfriend is standing there with his hand over his face.)

Boyfriend: “Just… I just threw my phone on the bed.”

(I look over and see that his phone has managed to smack into the remote, causing the batteries to fly out of it and across the bed. I burst out laughing.)

Boyfriend: “I’m going to sleep!”

(I love the big goof.)

A Truly Capital Relationship

, , , | Romantic | October 9, 2017

(I have recently taken a job as a merchandiser. I have had a rough day, so after work I seek validation from my wife. She’s an anarchist, so I know her validation will be flavored with that.)

Me: “You love and respect me, even though I’m a capitalist monkey, right?”

Wife: “Of course. I used to work for [Unpleasant Company], after all!”

Me: “Yeah, but your role was important. I’m useless.”

Wife: “I spent my time making my department more efficient for capitalism. Your job is more anti-capitalist, because you’re being paid by the company to do almost nothing!”

(Somehow it didn’t help that much with my problem of feeling useless.)

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