>Wars, Games, and Evil Satisfaction
K, haven’t made it to Target yet, but I’m working on it. Let me preface this entry by saying that I love my Honey. He is absolutely, without question, the best husband anyone could ever ask for. He deserves a Purple Heart, The Presidential Medal of Honor, and the Silver Cross-he puts up with me. He is patient, kind, funny, works like a dog, and let’s me have all the ‘puter time I want (this in part because I let him have all the X-BOX time he wants). I never have to ask permission to buy anything (as if!) or go anywhere, even if it’s to the beach with the girls (please, we’re nearly all over forty, married, and too dang tired!).
So here’s the thing…you ever wage a silent war with your special someone? You know what I mean. The tp runs out in the bathroom. Being a female, it’s very important to have some handy, right? If I notice that the current roll will soon be ending, I, only sometimes self righteously, will get a new one and place it on the back of the toilet. The person who finishes off the old one will surely replace it with the new one. You know, the one on the back of toilet, right there, in front of you, just a few inches from where your hand presses that little handle? Hello! Yeah, well, NO. I could count on less than one hand the times that’s actually happened. Next trip to the bathroom, the old roll is empty. And there, right where I put it, is the new one. Already started. Well, I’m not going to put it on the holder; if he can’t be bothered to do it, why should I? And so the game begins. To our shame, whole rolls have been emptied while resting on the back of the toilet. Sadly, this is not the only game we play.
I just visited the bathroom (sorry TMI) and, while attempting to wash my hands, I found that the soap dispenser is…you guessed it. Empty. Dang it! Honey can make tiny, one inch (no kidding) paper sail boats. He can fix a computer, a printer, plumbing, hang things, drill, paint, detail, do logic problems in a disgustingly short amount of time….but he can’t open a door, remove the soap refill bottle, unscrew the pretty little pump, and pour soap into the pretty little container… He apparently can’t even tell me the soap is empty. That would at least be something. Maybe he’s afraid telling me would be acknowledging the issue and that he would therefore be responsible for its resolution. Hmmm….
Still (tilting my chin up, sniff, raise eyebrows in a haughty manor), these things, though small, are important. To me, at least. He is, as I stated earlier, wonderful. Everyday, he finds some little way to please or surprise me; even if it’s just something he knows I will find funny (I have a great sense of humor and love to laugh-it’s great meds). But it’s just not okay to have to wait for pee to dry. Ick! And what if it’s another kind of emergency? OMG, can you imagine? What if no one was home?!! And everyone (oh, I really hope everyone) appreciates soap at the end of these particular visits.
So please, PLEASE, at the very least, mention the soap. If you notice the tp is ending (or gone) be kind enough to place a roll on the back of the toilet. And if you should (gulp) use the last of the tp, I mean the very last, and you’re the one who put it on the back of the toilet without mentioning the fact that it was, in fact, THE VERY LAST OF THE TP, well, just keep in mind that we love you anyway (pat pat pat). If we don’t blow up about it, if much slamming of doors and stomping of feet doesn’t occur, remind yourself (quickly) that women know how to fix things, too. (Insert shrewd, somewhat evil grin.) Your very life (or body parts) may depend on how well you know your special someone, her favorite store, favorite scent, favorite food….get the picture? I’m just saying.