Will someone help me, please. I’ve recently discovered that my caring, loving husband has a “unique” personality trait that….well, quite honestly, I had noticed in the past. But now we’re retired and therefore, caged forever like two ravenous tigers circling one another, each sizing up the other’s ability to survive. Or his or her stealthy ability to be first to scarf the last few remaining pieces of Christmas chocolates. (Craig never gets away with this, however, as the chocolate stains on the front of his shirt or jeans are a dead giveaway.)
But I digress…
Craig clearly appears to have an insatiable need to “mess with my mind.” I will fully admit to having some obsessive compulsive issues. In actuality, probably just a couple, at most. (Referred to from now on by the very technical term of O.C.) Take his sock drawer, for instance. Socks should be right-side out, folded together with their mates, and put in the drawer in such a way that helps him actually FIND the color of dress socks that he needs. LOCATING color and the matching pair seems essential for the speed at which he generally moves, right? What’s so O.C. about that organizational goal? So, will someone please tell me, what happens from the time that I place clean socks into that orderly arrangement….until the next time I open that drawer? Did a mini tornado strike his sock drawer? Did a toddler sneak into our closet and gleefully create chaos? Or did Craig do this intentionally to make me clench my jaw until I realize this is wasted frustration on my part and I WILL NOT ORGANIZE THIS DRAWER YET AGAIN. MAY HE WEAR ONE STRIPED BLACK SOCK WITH A BROWN ARGYLE. SO THERE.
Then there’s the communication issue. Take this conversation, for instance:
Craig: “So, this is what we’re going to do.”
(A couple beats of silence as I just look at him.)
“Aren’t you glad we made this decision together?”
He fails to appreciate that I don’t appreciate his supposed humor.
Then there’s his constant need to repeat certain words or phrases. We loved the Danish series “The Seaside Hotel,” which was in Danish with subtitles. But unfortunately, from that beloved show Craig picked up the word for “no” – “nej”—and now repeats “nej” about 1,485 times a day. NOT THAT I’VE NOTICED. OR THAT IT’S DRIVING ME BATTY. Several phrases have been forever banned:
“Hasta la vista, baby!”
Singing, “I’m in the mood for….” (filled in with anything, it’s banned, regardless)
Pretty much any form of humming
“I can’t find… “ (filled in with anything from the TV remote to his glasses to the kitchen)
And take the jars in our bathroom—antique blue, each with a different type of cotton ball or puff or swab. I arrange them like so:
When I come back into the bathroom later, they look like this:
Accidental? Unintentional? Or purposefully moved to mess with me and my O.C.??
Finally, there’s the Soap Dispensers Caper. We have matching ones at each of our sinks in the bathroom. One day mine is sufficiently full and all is good. The next day….I’m pumping and pumping and getting only frothy bubbles and air. I wonder, “How did it suddenly get—hey!
“YOU SWITCHED THEM, DIDN’T YOU?” I ask, giving him an I caught you glare.
Craig: Wide-eyed, innocent look back. “What? What are you talking about?”
Me: “Don’t give me that look! You KNOW what you DID!”
Craig: “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”
One of these days you’ll hear a rumor that Carolyn has totally lost it—at this age, wasn’t much left up there anyway. But YOU will know what happened. YOU will think, “He obliterated his sock drawer one too many times!” or “He moved one of the cotton ball jars to the opposite end of the counter!” or “He switched the soap dispenser again and she flipped out!”
It will be none of those minor occurrences.
He will have consumed the very last dark chocolate sea salt caramel. When I had counted on and eagerly looked forward to eating it for lunch.
Messin’ with my mind is one thing.
But you don’t EVER mess with a woman’s last piece of chocolate.