Impulse Control

My husband has a tendency to speak whatever is on his mind.  There are days that it gets so far under my skin that it’s the equivalent of wearing a hair shirt.   He often means well but he has this way of communicating that has taken me years to understand.

He is, without question, one of the most thorough and conscientious people I know.  He will leave a voicemail and it’s so detailed, I don’t need to call him back for at least a week.  Then he’ll text me to ask if I got the voicemail.  I’ve seen him in business mode.  He is polite and detailed and polished.  At home, he’s a little umm, rougher.

He will say things like “Yeah – I think I’m going to that thing.”

After six attempts to get out of him what “thing” he’s talking about, I will realize it’s from a conversation from three days ago.  Me yelling “Start at the beginning of the thought” is a weekly occurrence.

He also seems to think that because a notion has entered his mind, society at large should act upon his thought immediately.  Truth be told, this encompasses most of the arguments we have.  We remodeled our kitchen about four years ago  In the aftermath, there was a lot of painting necessary.  Since his best friend is also a top-notch contractor we were allowed the luxury of painting things the way we wanted (I’m a little bit of a weirdo when it comes to this stuff).  So in the few days of down time, we started painting our laundry room which is attached to the kitchen.  I was arched in a  back bend on a ladder painting the interior of the closet when I heard the dread words “Got a second?”  This means I should un-kink my back, climb down off of the ladder and go see whatever it is he wants me to see; and foolishly, I did just that.  What he needed from me was to determine where we should put a pan that for the record, we couldn’t use since we had no stove.  We were living off of take out and grilled food.   After hearing “Got a second” for the third time that day my temper launched.  In the middle of my tirade informing him that simply because a notion entered his head does not make it a moral imperative for me to drop what I’m doing which is important.  I’m pretty sure I threw a paintbrush and kicked the door as his best friend walked in from the garage door and immediately starting roaring laughter. 

He simply said. “Let me guess……Magilla had a thought.”

He announces things that are so obvious it’s actually comical.  Hey Shannon, I don’t know if you know this, but there’s a car seat on the floor.  Yes Magilla, I did know that.  Not only did I put it there, but I am presently standing less than two feet away from it.  I know he’s trying to be helpful but to my practical nature it’s somehow an insult to my intellect.  It’s like telling me my breasts are located beneath my chin.

We had to clean out the canister for the vacuum cleaner.  This is something I can do unassisted.  I’m funny that way.   He feels that he’s not well versed enough in the four step process and needs assistance, ergo………we cleaned out the vacuum canister.  Our dog is part Shepard and part hound which loosely translates to hair everywhere.  When I’m asked what breed she is I generally say, part hairball/part undiagnosed neurosis.  He decided to impress me by vacuuming the living room.  I would honestly be more impressed if a cattle prod were not necessary to effect this feat, but Magilla likes to play dumb.  He likes to pretend that he’s incapable of anything.

So after about ten minutes of vacuuming the canister was full of dog hair.  He exclaimed in amazement and pride, “Is all that hair hers?”

Yes.

“No”, he says, “Some must be yours; it’s gray.”

Sure babe.  If we’re going with that theory, some is probably yours too…..from your ass.

Today he informed me that he was going to take a nap.  Earlier that morning before running errands, I had stripped the bed to wash the sheets; which were still in a ball in the dryer when I got back three hours later.  When I asked him if he planned on making the bed, the response  I got was a snotty NO; as if I’d asked him if he were going to open an umbrella up his nose and twirl it.  I had no idea asking this question was so utterly offensive.

Silly me.  I had a thought.  I really should work on that.

 

 

 

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