Yesterday, while I was having dinner with Beks, she asked me this insanely insightful question: How do you and Mr Thick get along in your marriage?
I was completely stumped, I couldn’t answer the question. I mean, we just get along splendidly (we have to, we are married!). Let’s put it this way: sometimes, he picks up after my slack and at other times, I do it for him. We sort of balance each other in the sense that we pick up where the other left off. Like, I feed the cats and he cleans their litter box. I cook and he cleans. I book the tickets and he makes sure we have our passports. That sort of thing. We also laugh a lot AT and WITH each other.
But as do all relationships, ours is not the happily ever after. Marriage is fun, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also a hell lot of WORK. And sometimes, I get so mad at him for being a slob.
Just the other week, I was so pissed off with him for being a rude ass. He had gone off for his Saturday footy game with his mates and I stayed home to chill. But me being me, I couldn’t chill for too long without wanting to do something (ADHD runs in my family) so I put together a lunch for one, chucked the laundry into the wash, took it out and put it out to dry, took the laundry in and folded the clothes, cleaned the kitchen, fed the two bratty furry things living with us AND had my lunch while reading the papers. All within, oh, three hours. Can you tell how proud of me I am? By the time he was done and we were due to meet, I was hot, stinky and in need of a shower. Instead of me going out to meet him, he decided that I was taking too long and drove back to pick me up.
The first words that he said to me as he stepped into the house were, “Wah, so slow.” I wanted to PUNCH him, I swear. While he was having fun with his friends, I was CLEANING OUR HOUSE. Stupid man. Luckily, he later bought me a nice cup of mocha at Shots cafe AND went to Tangs with me to get our Le Creuset 4.5 qt French oven so I forgave him. Cos I am nice like that.
Yannisms 