Mornings with my husband
This past week, my husband and I took the opportunity to talk about what we planned to do this week. “So what?” you’re thinking. “What’s so special about this?”
Well, anyone who knows my husband knows he is physically incapable of saying or doing anything normally. So naturally, such an every day, normal conversation wouldn’t go as planned.
- Him: So, what do you have planned today?
- Me: Well, I gotta sign the contract and call the bank. We got that guy coming to clean the computer later today. I got dishes to do, blogs to write–oh, and I got to do something with my hair. It’s one giant knot.
(cue uncontrollable laughter)
- Me: What’s so funny?
Apparently, my husband finds my train of thought hilarious. And sure, I can see the humor of it. But he’s not the one who wakes up with a giant rat’s nest attached to his head every morning. It don’t matter if I sleep with it up, down, or in a braid. It don’t matter if I go to bed with it dry or wet–I’m gonna wake up with knots in my hair. It’s the curse of having long, curly hair.
So, after he finishes making fun of me, the conversation continues.
- Him: So, what are you going to write about?
- Me: I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it.
- Him: Why don’t you write about wifely duties? The Bible has more to say about wives than it does husbands.
- Me: (Tries to hit him. Doesn’t work. Tries to tickle him. Doesn’t work.)
Yes, that was an insulting comment, but in all fairness, he was only saying it to make fun of feminism and overbearing husbands . . . because his mind just works that way at 7:58 in the morning. It doesn’t help that he, of course, is right about the Bible verses (though I plan to double check, just to make sure). Or about most everything else.
So my husband can be a know it all–I’m okay with that. Mostly.
It can be kind of frustrating–never winning an argument or discussion because my husband usually knows the answer. Oh, not the important things. We try to come to an agreement on that. It’s the little things, the little competitions, I can never win.
His mind is so much quicker and more agile than mine. If I let my competitive self out too much, I’ll get disappointed when I inevitably lose. And when I lose too much, I get disappointed. And when I get disappointed, I get jealous. And jealousy is such a nasty thing.
My solution? Learn to become a gracious loser. So much easier and takes a whole lot less energy.
Besides, my husband likes to debate with me. And I like sparing with him back. Who am I to mess that up?
Living with the Pun Master 