Remember that time I wrote a post about how amazing my husband is?
Well, this one is nothing like that one. Someone is bound to be able to relate to this lovely significant other rant. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m the only one who gets irritated by things that aren’t actually important or irritating worthy.
My husband does this lovely thing where he helps around the house, mostly without being asked, but is completely incapable of following through with something I ask him to do. I have to continuously follow up and parent him and, my gosh, I want to strangle him sometimes.
On Tuesday, September 4th, 2018 (read: five weeks ago), oil was delivered to our house. On the receipt was a nice little note asking for the pricker bushes surrounding the oil pipe to be trimmed. Phil came home from work, I mentioned that the bush needed to be cut back, and I left the bill on the counter as both a reminder to pay it and to trim the bush. After the bill was paid, I reminded him again about the bushes. A couple of days later I placed the bill on his work notebook (that I swear he is attached to and looks at every fifteen minutes around the clock) so that he’d be sure to see the constant reminder. In fact, I even told him that this is what I had done. A couple of days after that I noticed the receipt in the garbage and asked if he got around to trimming the bush. I don’t think it’s necessary for me to share what his answer was. This past weekend Phil was weed whacking the yard in preparations for Carson’s birthday party. I reminded him another time or two that other yardwork needed to be completed. I’ll leave that up to you to decide if our oil pipe is currently fully accessible or not.
So, we had Carson’s party, and all was well. Last year it was raining so we left the pop-up tent out overnight so that we could take it down and pack it up when it was dry. Turned out that was a big mistake because it was especially windy, and the tent poles got bent and the tent had to be trashed. We got a new tent and used it once so far. The second time was this weekend at Carson’s party. My parents always stick around to help clean up, take the tent down, put tables and chairs away, etc. I was surprised to look outside last night to see the tent still up. I casually asked Phil about it and he said he’d get to it. My surprise turned into slight aggravation when I saw it still up this morning. Did he somehow block out the great tent catastrophe of 2017? Did he forget about all his complaints about spending money on a new one? Did he forget about all my complaints about how a broken tent was piled on the side of the driveway from October 14th to January 13th?
Note: I never forget anything, and I can track down exact dates or quotes at the drop of a hat. Don’t mess with me.
Those are just a couple of examples at the forefront of my brain. Sure, I could easily take care of these things myself. But the point is that I asked (and asked and asked…) for his help. I expect to ask my children a million times to complete a task, but he’s supposed to be a responsible adult; I adjust my expectations, and patience, accordingly.
Can someone please explain to me why I must resort to nagging for him to complete tasks but then he can solve his own issues instantaneously? Take today for example. At 9:35am I receive a text message from him that his “muffler just gave out”.
At 9:53am I talk to him and he says he’s going to bring his car into the shop this afternoon. At 4:23pm he informs me that he had a 1pm appointment to get it fixed and that his car is now quieter than ever. It took him 3 hours and 25 minutes to spend a couple hundred dollars and worktime to repair his car, and yet we are passing the five-week mark for him to take five minutes to cut back a pricker bush with a tool we already own. I DON’T GET IT!!!!!
To be fair, I will reveal that as I typed the very first word of this he announced to me that he was going outside to take down the tent. Typical.
P.S. I love my husband. And I appreciate him. You believe me, right?