Hubzam and I have longterm goals in the relationship department and that is a shared blessing. A friend commented that she wished her relationship was as easygoing as mine. In other words, she is acting under the notion that Hubzam and I would never disagree or be at odds with one another.
Oh, honey, grab the coffee...
Truly, we get along great but we do have our Petty Parties over the most ridiculous, useless, unimportant issues and even as I write this - I'm still petty about some things I recognize as idiotic! Is there hope for me? Probably not.
A few examples...
The Sock Petty Party
When I wash clothes, it's hard to keep all these dang socks straight. So I have two buckets sitting on my laundry-folding table: one for dark socks and one for light socks. This dumb idea keeps laundry folding to a minimum in the sock department, thus speeding up the task. Over the years, I've wasted hours trying to find missing socks. Let the guys sort them out.
Hubzam does his part by complaining about mismatched socks and laying them on the washer, willy nilly, as he looks for a match. That caused my guilt gene to flair up and so I went to the sock bucket and sorted them all out and matched those loners up. After all, it's such a petty thing that I let a pile of mismatched socks irritate me, right?
A few mornings ago, I found all the matched socks thrown back in the bucket.
My head popped off. The end.
(Repeat this episode 2-3 times monthly until your blood pressure reaches dangerous levels.)
The Yardwork Petty Party
On Saturdays, Hubzam will go outside and mow the lawn while I clean inside. The man actually loves to mow the lawn and I'm not inconvenienced in the least by his need to ride Ye Olde Husqvarna into the sunset while surrounded by a cloud of chlorophyll scented debris. No complaints here, boss.
Our front porch is level with the entrance; no steps at all. After I've ran the sweeper and dusted, I'll start to see grass and leaves here and there. Following this trail, I usually find that he pointed the mower's discharge chute toward the front door...'cause he'll sweep that later...after everyone has walked through it for hours...nothing bad could come of that plan.
Except for when my head pops off.
Kids are not immune...
The "I'm Exhausted and You Just Crossed a Threshold of Patience" Petty Party
You've heard my stories of late: poor Gonzo has been laid up by an accident and wrestling with the incapacitation. He's been a champion of patients, seriously. Remember that as I relate this tale...there's not enough ellipses in the world to do it justice.
One night, long after Dad had gone to bed, I found myself about two hours past when I SHOULD have gone to bed. While trying to get Gonzo set up for the night, he was telling me what needed done for his comfort. "My pillows need moved...Could I have a fan turned on (he always sleeps with a fan...don't ask me why)?... Could I just move the fan two inches to the left?...The brace is uncomfortable; could we take it off and put it on again?... Can I have a glass of water?... How about moving that pillow, please, Mom?... The fan still isn't right...I'm out of water...and I think I will need another pillow...my foot is cold..."
Then he pointed at a spot on his face and asked me to scratch it for him. Dude: your finger is right there - scratch away!
Insert this face in your mental image of what is going on:
While I would do anything in the world for Gonzo, I'm not a saint and the time comes when a person is just too tired to keep from making that specific face. It's the kid equivalent of the head popping off.
What's my point?
Everyone has that moment where they fire up their own custom petty party. More often than not, it's the people close to you who get invitations, hot air filled balloons, and noise makers. Don't let the party go too long and learn to laugh at your own ridiculousness.
There are 19 dark socks on the laundry table. Grrrrrrrrrrr...