Wednesday, January 18, 2012
It's the little things
Thursdays are Trash Day
. Taking out the trash is on Matt’s to do list . He does that, washes dishes, cuts the onions so I don’t cry, shovels show and mows the grass – I do just about everything else .
I will preface what I’m about to say by saying this first: this week, the trash did get taken out to the curb. BUT – the trash can didn’t get replaced with a trash bag. Not a big deal per se, except for the fact that I have told him before on more than one occasion that this is irritating. Who wants to go throw something away only to realize that you can’t?! This is my equivalent of “leaving the toilet seat up.” I don’t know why it bothers me, but it does and again, Matt knows it does.
So what’s a girl to do when her trash can is left bag-less? Well, I’ll tell you: I assumed Matt never listens to me when I talk and doesn’t care about the things I think are important. When I type it out like that, it seems like quite the giant leap to make, but nonetheless, that was my mental state. I should mention that this was on a day that I was already irritated…
…Because in another test of my patience, we remodeled one of our spare bedrooms this week
. Unfortunately, it did take all week because my man moves at the pace of molasses with stuff like that (it looks GREAT finished, though) . Anyway, on Thursday afternoon, I finished work a bit early and went to the garage to paint the last side of the last door . Matt had sternly warned me not to get any white paint on the garage floor (apparently keeping a clean concrete floor is his weird toilet seat-esque anger thing) . Despite both his warnings and advice on how not to spill, I spilled . Luckily, I noticed in time . Being a good wife, I panicked as he would have himself and ran inside to get some wet paper towels to wipe it up with . I managed to get it all off the floor before it dried--Crisis adverted . But then, another one popped up . Upon taking the towels with wet paint inside to throw them away, I realized THERE WAS NO TRASH BAG . We just got a new, fairly fancy trash can as a wedding gift, too, and I imagined Matt wouldn’t be happy if I got white paint on it, either . Quite the predicament, because now, I had closed the door from the kitchen to the garage in anticipation of having clean hands to get back out after successfully throwing away the paint towel and washing my hands . So now I’m mad AND covered in white paint . “I’ll just throw it in the recycling can, who cares if that one gets paint on it,” I thought . Well, we wouldn’t have to find out . “Luckily”, my dear hubby had forgotten to take out the trash can we use for recycling, so I just piled the paper towels onto that heap for retrieval later (and stored away in my mind the fact that he didn’t take it out for use later also) .
All of this happening on the day I finally decide to change my beloved last name to his unpronounceable one. Figures.
Oh – AND that day happened to mark the two-week mark of when I presented him with two quotes from garage door companies so we could replace ours. (And that day was two weeks after I’d asked him to do it before getting fed up and getting bids myself). I told him, also on more than one occasion, how important it was to me that he look and help choose. Too late for that. Once I saw the liner-less trash can, what I did next was call Omaha Garage Door & Window and put down a deposit on a garage door without input or approval from him.
Serves him right….I guess?? No one has ever accused us girls of being logical when angry.