The Details Are Not Important. And the Devil is in Them.

This morning, Husbandrinka and I interrupted our state of marital bliss and had a fight. As most of our fights are, it was very stupid and he was completely in the wrong. The details are not important, what’s important is that you back me up completely and be available to testify in my defense before a Grand Jury. Thank you.

OH, Ok! I’ll fill you in, but wow, are you nosy!

Last week, I was blow drying my luxurious (and as far as I know, lice-free) hair in my bedroom. What? The lice? More on this later on the week, when I stop vomiting. Anyway, since we’re in a recession and do not have a power strip, I had to unplug the lamp to plug in my hair dryer. And then when I unplugged my hair dryer, I didn’t plug the lamp back in because I was busy solving the current economic crisis, or irrigating the Sahara or possibly I saw a shiny object. As I said, the details are irrelevant.

So, this morning, Husbandrinka goes to turn on the light, and apparently because the lamp is not plugged in, the light does not turn on. I point this out to him, in my best Joe the Plumber manner. And you know what he says? He says “you should plug it back in, since you’re the one who unplugged it and it is your responsibility.” Exhibit 1, ladies and gentlemen.

I know many girls dream of being brides. I dreamed of my husband giving me an opening by telling me that I’m not doing my job, so that I can point out all the things that he has not done. I am so excited that my moment has come, except now I am like Cindy Brady on that quiz show where she is hypnotized by the red light and just keeps staring at it, unable to speak. Except I don’t have those pigtails that she had and I’m not lisping, nor am I wearing a miniskirt. I am also not a prepubescent fictional TV character, but perhaps you get where I am going with this.

This is my big moment and the only thing that I can think of is, “Well, when you take your dish in to the sink, you always leave it in the sink and it is your responsibility to put it in the dishwasher!”

And guess what he says? I’ll give you a hint: it is the most infuriating thing that a man can ever say this side of “are you getting your period or something?”. He says absolutely nothing, just goes along doing what he was doing. In the dark, but still.

So I resolve right then and there not to plug in that lamp, ever. EVER. I am enraged and engorged. With rage. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll unplug every other lamp in our apartment and take the batteries out of the flashlight for good measure. But then I change my mind and plug it in, to prove that I am the rational one. And I call him to show him. See? I plugged it in! Yay, me.
He looks at me as though I were crazy and says, “Well, now you have something to blog about.” Like I’d ever blog about that.

One year ago ...

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