Tuesday, January 24, 2012

the principle of the thing.

this post is not going to be about how i don't get men. (even though, after being with john for 8 years, and being friends with him even longer than that... that's definitely true. case in point: this past saturday. between several moves, i somehow misplaced the cord that connects my sewing machine to the outlet. which hasn't really been an issue because my camera charger cord is interchangeable with the sewing machine one. well, as luck would have it, i left my camera charger at my brother-in-law's in florida. upon our return to snowy iowa, i began panicking. a week, maybe two or even three without my sewing machine? awwww, hell no. so i frantically began researching where i could get a cord overnighted to me. until i remembered the sewing machine store over by target. i placed a call and the kindly woman said that they had a variety of generic cords, so the best idea would be to bring my sewing machine in to check if any worked. i was about to take jack with me to the store when john announced that he had some errands to run. you know, guy errands. picking up deodorant, getting a six-pack, wandering through the electronics section at target. and because john decided he really wanted to get out of the house, he offered to take my sewing machine to the store and get me a cord. as he was about to leave the house, i remembered i needed to return a plain glass vase i had purchased that wasn't right for a project, and i asked him if he could do that, too. he looked at me with a face of disgust. "a vase?" he sneered. "that's girl stuff. you do that the next time you're out." and i just looked back at that masculine presence standing in front of the door, holding that white and teal sewing machine, and i just thought to myself, "awwwww, you can't expect him to do girl shit! there's only so much a MAN can take.")

but like i said, this isn't a post about how i don't always get men. because that much is true. this is more like a last lecture of sorts, a key to the mystical secrets that befuddle and bewilder the common man. or more specifically, my common man - my dear husband.

now when i was thinking about things to include in this diatribe, i was reminded of an incident with my friend, liz. years ago, a group of us girls had gone out on a friday night. after enjoying some drinks, we returned to liz's apartment, and somehow a little shelf got knocked off the wall. and it was late. and we may or may not have been drunk. but regardless, liz knew that shelf needed to be re-hung on the wall. 2 in the morning, 2+ drinks in, it didn't matter. (spoiler alert: the shelf did get back up on the wall after multiple exasperated attempts and an explanation for liz's then-boyfriend, now husband. "it's the principle of the thing!") ok, but so anyway, i think about this moment time and again, not just because it makes me smile, but because i totally would have done the same thing, i totally have done the same thing, and it totally illustrates this phenomenon of which i am about to speak. the whole dumbfounded guy standing there not "getting" what's so important about the crisis of the moment.

you know, they say crazy is doing the same thing over and over, but expecting to get different results. well, in my husband's world, apparently crazy means wringing dishrags out and cleaning the toilet bowl once a week. but it's like, COME ON, john. it's me we're talking about. you know me. you remember every word of songs you've heard once in the opening credits to movies from 5 years ago. you must know that the dishtowel hanging on the stove is not for actual use, right? it's just for show. because it's cute. and under no circumstances are the two decorative shams from the spare bedroom to be used to sleep on. because SOMEONE, and i am not mentioning any names, was laying on those shams while watching the stanley cup finals and that someone's aftershave or face soap or whatever stained those shams. and now they have to lay face down at all times. and in similar fashion, the towel in the bathroom next to the sink is for drying clean hands. it is not for wiping excess toothpaste. or cleaning the floor. or wiping jack's nose. (p.s. there are ghetto towels in the bathroom closet. you can use those for whatever purpose you wish.) and yes, john, it is absolutely necessary to take your cereal out of the box and pour it into the cute decorative containers i have purchased and placed in our cabinet. i understand you think this is an exercise in futility since we are the only people who see what the inside of that cabinet looks like, but a euphoric sense of calm washes over me when i open the doors of that cabinet and i see all the products arranged in an aesthetically pleasing way. which brings me to the bowls on the shelves above the fridge. i know they look curiously like ordinary bowls. and i know you want to grab them off there and throw some chips in, or maybe add some pistachios. but i need you to resist that urge because those bowls, my darling, are actually pieces of home decor that i have painstakingly placed there because they fill up that shelf space in a way that makes me happy. and i can't have you ruining my design project because you want to have a snack. (we have bowls you can use to your heart's content on the shelves below the china cabinet). and speaking of bowls to store things in, i have to remind you: tupperware comes from the store. when you purchase it, it is empty. it does not have sour cream in it. it does not have butter in it. those plastic receptacles are not tupperware, and when they are empty, we recycle them.

[this is where it gets kinda dicey because inevitably john takes these reminders as an affront to who he is. as if me explaining about towels and bowls and home organization is a refusal to accept differences between people. listen, my love, i'm not racist. i'm an OCD perfectionist. there's a total difference.]

john, all i'm trying to get at is that there are rules. and they have to be followed. or there are hormonal, emotional breakdowns. and there might be tears. and gnashing of teeth and eating of ice cream. but facts are facts. and some bowls are for decoration. and not all towels are meant to be used.

hopefully this has cleared up a few issues and explained some things because in the immortal words of my dear friend, liz: it's the principle of the thing.

but you already know all this, john. i know you do.

hugs n' kisses, your soul mate

p.s. next week, perhaps over a romantic dinner and wine, we're going to talk about how far i've come in letting things go and going with the flow. xoxo!

1 comment:

  1. I don't think anyone could understand this post any more than me! I wish you could please also tell Berto that not only are those towels in the bathroom not for toothpaste, but they also need to be hung vertically. Berto will wipe toothpaste or do whatever with the show towels and then, much to my horror, will shove the towel on the rack horizontally! I don't even know how it's possible. It seems to defy the laws of gravity, and I would think it has to take more effort to balance the towel this way than to just fold it over the bar like it's "supposed" to be!!