Island life....
Aug. 2nd, 2005 07:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trystinnAn early day at the homestead, as I got out of bed with the hubby at 6am. Endured countless sarcasm from friends via YIM who kept asking "wtf are you doing up this early?!?!" One smartass even asked me if "this was a brand new BTW-inspired early bird Tris", given that I'm rather infamous for being a grouchy person in the morning. Yes, I'm planning my revenge as I type. Good thing I work from home and she --- doesn't. *WEG*
Later this morning (oh joy of joys) I went on a husband-inspired goose chase (he's famous for these!) and ended up going to four buildings on two Navy bases to find the right department only to be given a bag of literature, patted on the head and sent on my merry way. All of this could have been diverted if the Navy would just change the bloody signs on the sides of their buildings. Really, there's a taxpayer funded sign making shop on the base, pity they never use it. I was so grateful for my husband's fabulous directions, I treated him to lunch and a lecure at the beach.
The dogs were driving me nuts this afternoon, so I packed them into the sedan (somehow, hubby always manages to take the van the day I need to take three dogs into town) and took them to the dog park. An hour later, we're hot, somewhat dehydrated, dusty and tired. Which reminds me....
"Hubby and I are learning a few things about the other that are part and parcel for newlyweds...still going to kill him in his sleep oneday, but at least now I know its *normal*:
We are categorically incapable of going through a drive thru together. By the time we've chosen where to go, I already know EXACTLY what I want to order. Unfortunately, my hubby is the exact opposite. He sits in front of the order sign and looks at it bewildered, reading the entire contents because he's "forgotten what its called". Worse yet, he NEVER knows what he wants to drink...which is ALWAYS iced tea (unlike me, he doesn't drink soda). This isn't brain surgery, folks, and we're so rural there's only a few options for drive thru here. We've been honked at, repeatedly, which is my only evidence that he's off his bloody gourd when he does this. He literally doesn't understand why this drives me nuts.
He leaves for work at the base in his civvies, to change into uniform at the "office". Which is a ten minute drive from us. This is nuts, right? Its not just me, right? The major complaint I have - its twice as much laundry and somehow, mystically, I always get stuck doing it because I work from home. For this same reason, I get stuck with most of the chores, the dishes, the dog maintenance, etc., ad nauseum.
He wants to eat healthy at lunch, yet always forgets to pack a lunch for himself, which is apparently MY fault since I don't remind him. Wah?
He squeegies (sp?) the glass shower door open so water gets all over the tile floor. He then mops the water up with the floor towel, then throws it over the freshly squeegied door...which sort of negates the work he's just done, eh?
He keeps putting bumper stickers on MY car. Really, what's up with the bleeping stickers? I'm now the proud owner of a blue sedan with both a "IRL" sticker (geek note: for Ireland, not "In Real Life") and a W.A.S.P. sticker. Don't ask me how many various hysterical bumper stickers are on the van, frankly I've lost count and we've only owned it a few months.
My husband manages to dirty three cups a day PLUS a travel mug which I inevitably find in one or more cars, tossed carelessly in the back. Really, I think any jury would find me innocent of murder, don't you?
I'm a snooze button gal, he's a pop up at the first buzz kind of guy. He owns three alarms (don't want to be late for the Navy!), I own one and I'm the crazy alarm clock spouse? I don't think so.
My husband is a slow reader, especially on digital screen. Because of this, going through the satelite channel guide with him holding the remote is an act of absolute prolonged pain and horror. Isn't there a licensing test for remote ownership?
He is patently incapable of folding his laundry and putting it away, yet whines that I don't fold his clothes correctly. Needless to say, I've begun hanging his socks to shut him up. Duct tape is a gal's best friend.
And somehow, given all the above, I'm the one with low blood pressure (90 over 60) and he's the one with high blood pressure. And no matter what my hubby tells you - I'm neither undead nor a carrier!"
Later this morning (oh joy of joys) I went on a husband-inspired goose chase (he's famous for these!) and ended up going to four buildings on two Navy bases to find the right department only to be given a bag of literature, patted on the head and sent on my merry way. All of this could have been diverted if the Navy would just change the bloody signs on the sides of their buildings. Really, there's a taxpayer funded sign making shop on the base, pity they never use it. I was so grateful for my husband's fabulous directions, I treated him to lunch and a lecure at the beach.
The dogs were driving me nuts this afternoon, so I packed them into the sedan (somehow, hubby always manages to take the van the day I need to take three dogs into town) and took them to the dog park. An hour later, we're hot, somewhat dehydrated, dusty and tired. Which reminds me....
"Hubby and I are learning a few things about the other that are part and parcel for newlyweds...still going to kill him in his sleep oneday, but at least now I know its *normal*:
We are categorically incapable of going through a drive thru together. By the time we've chosen where to go, I already know EXACTLY what I want to order. Unfortunately, my hubby is the exact opposite. He sits in front of the order sign and looks at it bewildered, reading the entire contents because he's "forgotten what its called". Worse yet, he NEVER knows what he wants to drink...which is ALWAYS iced tea (unlike me, he doesn't drink soda). This isn't brain surgery, folks, and we're so rural there's only a few options for drive thru here. We've been honked at, repeatedly, which is my only evidence that he's off his bloody gourd when he does this. He literally doesn't understand why this drives me nuts.
He leaves for work at the base in his civvies, to change into uniform at the "office". Which is a ten minute drive from us. This is nuts, right? Its not just me, right? The major complaint I have - its twice as much laundry and somehow, mystically, I always get stuck doing it because I work from home. For this same reason, I get stuck with most of the chores, the dishes, the dog maintenance, etc., ad nauseum.
He wants to eat healthy at lunch, yet always forgets to pack a lunch for himself, which is apparently MY fault since I don't remind him. Wah?
He squeegies (sp?) the glass shower door open so water gets all over the tile floor. He then mops the water up with the floor towel, then throws it over the freshly squeegied door...which sort of negates the work he's just done, eh?
He keeps putting bumper stickers on MY car. Really, what's up with the bleeping stickers? I'm now the proud owner of a blue sedan with both a "IRL" sticker (geek note: for Ireland, not "In Real Life") and a W.A.S.P. sticker. Don't ask me how many various hysterical bumper stickers are on the van, frankly I've lost count and we've only owned it a few months.
My husband manages to dirty three cups a day PLUS a travel mug which I inevitably find in one or more cars, tossed carelessly in the back. Really, I think any jury would find me innocent of murder, don't you?
I'm a snooze button gal, he's a pop up at the first buzz kind of guy. He owns three alarms (don't want to be late for the Navy!), I own one and I'm the crazy alarm clock spouse? I don't think so.
My husband is a slow reader, especially on digital screen. Because of this, going through the satelite channel guide with him holding the remote is an act of absolute prolonged pain and horror. Isn't there a licensing test for remote ownership?
He is patently incapable of folding his laundry and putting it away, yet whines that I don't fold his clothes correctly. Needless to say, I've begun hanging his socks to shut him up. Duct tape is a gal's best friend.
And somehow, given all the above, I'm the one with low blood pressure (90 over 60) and he's the one with high blood pressure. And no matter what my hubby tells you - I'm neither undead nor a carrier!"
