I’ve now been unemployed for six months. Six months of not commuting into the city. Six months of being in the the house with The Boy. Not sure if you know this, but he works from home…so that means we are in each others face 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. For the most part we get along very well, but there’s always that little something your partner does that drives you bat shit loon balls.
MORE AFTER THE JUMP…
The Boy drums…all the time. During dinner. On the phone. While driving. Even when he’s completely still and silent, he’s drumming in his head. I let it go for a bit, silently hoping and praying it will stop, but after a 7 minute and 58 second drumming sesh, I place my hand on his fingers. While sitting on the sofa watching Stranger Things, he’ll have his arm draped over the back and there’s his fingers tap, tap, tapping away behind my head. I give him “the look”. You know the one I’m talking about. Immediately he realizes he’s playing a game of underlying torture on my brain.
While writing this post, I only thought it fair to ask The Boy what I do that drives him bonkers. Without hesitation, he said the “little piles of shit”. I apparently make little piles of insignificant shit and leave said piles around the house. Unimportant stacks of mail on the kitchen island. Sample work I brought to a meeting that are no longer important. The change out of a purse and its insignificant contents…piled with a hat and mittens because it was “warm” outside after returning from my meeting for which I brought very important papers that turned into insignificant piles of shit upon my return.
Me: “Huh, I didn’t notice I did that.”
The Boy: “That’s because I always clean it up…wait, this this bloggery fodder?”
Over the course of 12 years, he did break me of a bad habit…or more like trained me…or maybe I trained him. See, I used to always run late…I was even late for our first date. He’s Type A and German, and my tardiness used to make him break out in a cold sweat. Anxiety kicked in forcing him to tap out the most epic drum solo while I methodically brushed on mascara.
Now, after 10 years of marriage, I’m repetitively asked throughout the day, “If we have to be [insert destination here] at 6pm, how long will it take you to get ready?” While I’m getting ready, I’m told, “I’m not rushing you, but just so you know, it’s 4:58pm. We need to leave here in 37 minutes.” During the course of the remaining 37 minutes, he will walk back into the bathroom to casually spray cologne on his shirt or grab shoes from the closet and will ever so subtly continue the countdown.” In 12 minutes, I’m going to pick up the babysitter.” These days, I’m rarely late and more often than not, 10 minutes early.
Although he may hate my little piles of shit and his drumming vibrates my head, at the end of the day…if it wasn’t there…I think we’d oddly miss it. Maybe a mutual acceptance and understanding of quirks is what makes a marriage work. Weird huh? He may drive me bananas on occasion, but it’s the quirks that oddly make me love him even more.
So what about you? Are there little things that drive your partner insane? What drives you bonkers?