Monday, March 14, 2011

But seriously, why did it end up there?!

Was just commenting on this about the hubby's (and seemingly all men's) tendency to try to "fix" the problems of those nearest and dearest to their hearts. How considerate of them, really, but in all honesty most of us ladies just need to vent sometimes and be heard. We want to know that someone knows we are dealing with something we don't like, whether it's major life decisions or the need to switch the load of laundry from the washer to the dryer (dealing with said load of laundry after it's ready to be put away is back to being a major life decision...), and that they support us and know we work hard and every miniscule action is a drastic battle to change our lives, and that we obviously deserve a medal for the sacrifices we make and the obstacles we overcome on a daily basis.

How dare they presume to offer advice when we don't ask for it! Especially logical, sound advice which makes perfect sense, except for the fact that THAT is totally irrelevant at that point.

Especially when it's MY hubby, who automatically jumps to the assumption that if he can't find a certain screwdriver (which naturally he was the last person to use), it must have been stolen. Or *I* must have done something with it. I don't know how many times he has stomped around the room asking what *I* did with [insert random object here] (<-----Side note: *tee hee*). Usually something that typically I don't have much need for. And the more time he spends looking for it, the more frustrated he gets, making him less likely to find it. I refer to this as him going "mad-blind." I frequently have to look for things because he goes "mad-blind" and neglects to look NEXT TO areas he would typically put the things, underneath things near the areas he would typically put the things, or on the floor near areas he would typically put the things. Eventually I'll help him look for it, despite his protests that he doesn't need my help, he can find it or (suddenly) he probably doesn't even really need it, or maybe he could borrow one from his dad, and why would I be able to find it when he can't? Obviously it's gone. The look on his face when I find it after 15 seconds is priceless. The love I feel for him knowing we're just going to go through the same process a few more times before the week's out is even better.

We have fun with it now, though. At least now, after a few years of going through this constantly, as soon as something is discovered to be "missing" one of us will smile, sigh, and sadly say "Someone must have stolen it..." So although I very deeply want to punch him in the face for offering advice and not just commiserating when I'm whining/complaining to him about whatever, I don't. Because we all have our flaws.

Yesterday, I found the Holy Grail of his missing items, a certain screwdriver, on top of the medicine cabinet in our bathroom. Even *I* was baffled by that one. Those tricksy thieves.

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