Monday, July 26, 2010

I feel compelled to point out that I'm aware I'm nuts, but its not all bad nuts.

It occurs to me that after some of my posts outlining exactly how crazy I am, that people may find themselves wondering how in the hell I manage to stay married. Or how my husband hasn't already chosen self-immolation over continued life with the fruitcake he married. There are two answers to this question.

Reason the first: Compared to the bunny boilers and suicidal lunatics he was with before me, I actually appear cutely quirky in a totally adorable way. My crazy does not extend into the realm of stalking, demanding he give up any of his friends (regardless of whether or not I like them), demanding 1,000% of his attention at all times, or needing to be told that I'm pretty and he loves me and no, he was not looking at that other girl - okay, he looked at her, but she's the waitress, how was he supposed to not look at her a thousand times a day. Also, I've never thrown a screaming fit in public or thrown anything heavy at his head. In fact, straight from the horse's mouth, "You're crazy, but you're the least crazy woman I've ever met so I figured what the hell. Let's get married."

Reason the second: As often as I'm sure my mental illness causes him to pause with his face in his hands to contemplate his life choices, it works for him.

1. Part of my particular crazy requires that things be fair and balanced. And not like Fox News fair and balanced, but like really. (I apologize; I could not resist one last flog of a dead horse). Anyway, this translates into a thousand little things that are good. He makes twice as much money as me, so to be fair and balanced I attempt to compensate by doing all of the cooking and almost all of the cleaning. If he takes the garbage out, I bring the can back in. If he brought the can in last time, I take the garbage out this time. I leave the toilet seat down, so I never bitch when he leaves the seat up (this is also related to a little life rule I have had since childhood which is this: At no time should one place one's ass upon a surface that has not been thoroughly examined. Which sprang from an obsession with sitting on sharp things, but whatever. Its a good rule). Also, if I don't want to have to ask permission to do minor social things with my friends, and I don't, I don't make him ask me for permission. And on and on like that.

2. You may have noticed that I said I do all of the cooking. Make good food happen and you will be forgiven a multitude of sins.

3. I can find anything. Which is really convenient because he loses everything. The gratitude a man feels when presented with the iPhone he was convinced was lost or stolen forever will cause him to totally forget that you kept him awake for 2 hours last week while you endlessly circled the house in search of serial killers (you always have to go back because what if they slid into a hiding place after you already looked there? This cycle can go on for awhile because that's always the case). Anyway, I can find anything is often related to my OCD because things have places and they must live in those places. If a thing is in its place I can find it. And if a thing is not in its place I often know where it is because its driving me crazy that its not in its place. However, I also have the ability to think of where he might have set a thing down and can generally go right to it.

4. As a corollary to I find everything, I find things that aren't lost, but that he wants and just can't find. My husband is incapable of finding things ever at all. A good example of this would be the following:

Him: I would like some feta cheese.
Me: There is feta in the fridge.

5 minutes later I walk by the fridge. He is standing in front of it with his eyes apparently open. I realize he is having difficulty, but don't want to be hover-y and enabler-y, so I let him keep looking without comment.

10 minutes later he is back on the couch with no feta.

Me: I thought you wanted feta?
Him: I think we're out. I couldn't find.

30 seconds later I present him with the brand new container of feta cheese. The look on his face is always so...awesome. Its like I am a unicorn that shits gold nuggets or some other sort of magical creature that is made up of magic and has the ability to make food appear, where before there was no food. And he's damn glad he had the foresight to marry such a magical creature because life is awesome when there is feta and you thought there was no feta.

5. Still related to the finding/losing theme is the fact that I help him to not lose things and to find things on his own. Before when we were living in sin, but not yet married so I didn't feel compelled to do his laundry we would have some variation of this conversation every single day:

Him: Have you seen my blue shirt?
Me: No.

And then I would have to find it, because I find things.

Now I have taken over the majority of the laundry duties (not ironing, because I hate ironing. If he wants to be wrinkle free, he does it himself. Also, if I want to be wrinkle free either I talk him into doing it or I wear something else. Mostly I've taught myself not to care about wrinkles. Because caring means ironing, and that is never going to happen). Um...yes, I do most of the laundry. And that means that I have now been able to organize the closet so that all of his long sleeve blue shirts hang together, all of his white shirts hang together, etc. etc. And he now knows that if he wants his blue shirt, he should first look with the 15 other blue shirts in the closet. If its not there he should check the laundry. And only after he has checked these two places should he ask me where the shirt is. Since this system has been implemented I have only had to answer that question twice.

6. He doesn't have to plan anything or keep up with anything. I make plans, inform him of plans, and get him where he needs to go when he needs to go there and he can save that valuable mental energy for whatever he is saving that energy for. He's pretty freaking smart. It could be anything.

7. 90% of the time I talk to his mother so he doesn't have to. Whatever finding iPhones, and making food happen, and not being bitchy doesn't make up for, this totally covers it.


  1. If I weren't Asian, I'd be convinced you were my sister from another mister. Based on this entire post (um, and all your other posts).

    I'm happy to take charge of cleaning, too. I think some women find this demeaning, but those women don't have OCD.

    I spent the last hour organizing every piece of paper/receipt in my possession into file folders- typed labels of course. Best hour ever. I don't lose things either. ;)

  2. This post has a theme, and it is that your husband loses, everything.

    It seems though he has yet to lose you, so this is central to keeping him from falling off the edge of oblivion.

    Nice work.

  3. Regarding #3-4: I am SO like your husband when it comes to losing/finding things. And my husband plays the "finder of lost things even if they are right in front of my face" roll.

    And #5? Early in our courtship my husband asked me to iron a shirt, and it took me a really long time and I did only a marginally passable job and he has never asked me to iron a single thing of his since. That worked out well, I'd say.

  4. A) I love this post

    B) I'd probably marry you. Instead, I found a tall southern boy who will probably take over laundry duty when we marry.

    C) I say it's about work more than money. I had a b.f. who made more money than me and felt entitled to not do housework, even though I worked twice as many hours as he did. Not cool. But if you're happy with your arrangement, good. Just be sure he's happy to help out if something changes. My mom always did everything for my dad, and now that she's decrepit and disabled, he still thinks he shouldn't have to clean the bathtub. Not cool. But he seems cooler than my dad in that respect.

    D) Feta is good.

    E) So are unicorns.

  5. Well damn. I'm bat shit crazy AND I don't cook. I'm probably getting divorced, aren't I?

  6. If you ever leave him and want give me cheese and find my blue shirt I will absolutely marry you.

  7. I take charge of the domestic duties even though I don't live with my boyfriend yet. Honestly, it just feels like he's not doing it right. And I do suspect that he puts on an act that he can't do it so I will. I don't care if it means the dishwasher is loaded the RIGHT way.

    And I'm with you on the serial killer situation. I swear I heard someone say "Guten tag!" in the bushes once, so the house HAS to be checked now. I'm no fool!