My grandmother always used to say, “If only you could borrow my eyes, you’d see his perfection.” This was her response to anyone who dared criticize my grandfather. Their love was one for the ages, a bond so profound that it allowed for imperfections to be easily overlooked. I find myself in a similar situation with my husband, Brian.
While he seems to have a sixth sense for locating the TV remote—even if it’s buried within the couch cushions—he struggles to find common household items. “Where’s the flashlight?” he’ll ask. “In the utility drawer.” “No, it’s not. I checked.” So, I pause my show, set down my drink, and retrieve it for him. “Yes, it is.” “Oh. I didn’t see it.” This scene plays out multiple times daily with everything from dish towels to spatulas. It seems he believes in magical helpers, like the Dish Fairy who fills the sink with clean dishes or the Toilet Paper Fairy who replaces empty rolls. If he doesn’t see these tasks completed, surely a fairy must be at work.
Here are some other amusing quirks I tolerate regularly:
- Bedtime Brawls: Our bed often resembles a battlefield. Brian must be training for ninja status; his arms flail around at night, inadvertently hitting me. And don’t get me started on his restless legs! I’ve built a pillow fortress to stay safe, but I often wake up thinking there’s an earthquake, only to realize it’s just him kicking the mattress.
- Dish Dilemma: How is it so difficult to place dirty dishes in the sink or, better yet, into the dishwasher? Coffee cups are left scattered around the house, snack wrappers are abandoned by the couch, and dirty dishes accumulate on the counter. It’s as if there’s an invisible barrier preventing him from making those extra steps. Oh wait, I do this too. Never mind!
- Laundry Lapse: Though he was a high school basketball star, Brian apparently can’t seem to make a shot when it comes to tossing socks and underwear into the hamper. Clothes are strewn about, leading me to consider installing a scoreboard to incentivize better aim.
- Laundry Catastrophe: One time, he ruined my favorite sweater by washing it with a new pair of jeans, resulting in a blue dye disaster. His response? “I can never do laundry again.” And he hasn’t. At least he never complains when I have to rewash my own forgotten loads.
- Gas Issues: Let’s talk about the farting. I’m not referring to the occasional slip-up; Brian’s emissions are so powerful they vibrate the furniture! Our kids have learned to steer clear of him, and even the dog is scared—his “fartlosions” could be classified as a natural disaster!
- Snoring Symphony: And then there’s the snoring. Calling it a human chainsaw would be an understatement. It’s so disruptive that our son has requested a room change. I buy earplugs in bulk to survive the night. Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t been reported for noise violations, given that my bed doubles as a vibrating mattress.
I’m well aware that I’m not the easiest person to live with either. When I asked Brian what I could improve about myself, he simply brought me a cup of coffee and replied, “Nothing. You have no quirks.” So, perhaps he is perfect—perfect for me.
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