What cosmic conspiracy conceives such disparity between a husband and wife?
Why so many things have to be so different?
I know rhetorical questions ! Here I am listing down what I feel are some aspects that have not been explored/discussed before
Simple things right? You use them, send it to a wash and they come back fresh and new for another round of use. That is the way I see it. All the time.
Not my wife. There are the following categories (most certainly not exhaustive)
Bath towels for each
Hand towels for drying hands
Kitchen towels for wiping hands
Kitchen towels for wiping vessels
Kitchen towels for wiping platforms
And each of them non-interchangeable !
A kitchen towel meant for wiping vessel can’t be used for wiping a platform even if it goes for a wash immediately after dusting the platform.
I set about loading the dishwasher with a clear intention of giving her a break. I do not switch it on waiting for her to rinse and load her plate after she finishes her dinner. I retire to some post dinner reading. Clattering of COMPLETELY rearranging the loaded dishwasher flips me. No wonder I stopped loading the dishwasher.
View from the other side : why don’t you see how it is to be loaded properly instead of blaming me for redoing what you have done?
Honestly, I tried. Not once , not twice but several times. No patterns emerged. At least none that I could follow. I gave up.
I have four pairs at any time – one formal, one for winter, one for running and one for trekking. Period. When one of them is kaput, I replace. Meaning I buy a new one and immediately throw away the old one. Most of the times at the shoe shop itself.
And she……no comments
Often I chip in.
One, I like cooking. Two, she needs a break.
So I set about cooking a lunch on a weekend. Usually it is rice and one dish. I cook, clean and go for my shower.
On my emerging from the shower she’d be making rotis and dal and some raita too.
Rationale! – how can we have only a rice and a dish.
After the flames of eternal hope have died, one resigns and simply asks – tell me, simply tell me, what time are we leaving tomorrow? And by time I mean what time do we leave home? To be more precise what time do we start the car?
With such shameless pleading one gets a time.
Time for a woman is never what is readable on a clock. It is always associated with an event. Usually it would be – we will leave after breakfast or we will leave immediately after lunch. The former could mean anytime between 1030 and 1300. And the latter between 1330 and 1700. After almost holding a knife at her throat a time would be agreed upon.
And she will manage to be late by at least 15 minutes.
Catch phrase is at least.
And she will ask – why are you so grumpy? J
I like to enter the cinema hall before ANY activity starts. Often the attendant tells me to wait outside as the staff are still cleaning the hall after the last show. I have to be there before they show slides, the advertisements, the logo of the multiplex, trailers for the forthcoming attractions, some more advertisements, dim the lights and finally the film starts.
She has to explore what is available at all the shops, cafes, promotional merchandises. She enters the hall along with you with a reluctance that can only match that of a dog being dragged to its bath. She will complain about the cushion, about the noise level, about the people in the front row and finally when the film starts will fall asleep within 15 minutes.
How was the day?
My answer is usually one of the following three
And out of courtesy I fall into the trap EVERY single time by asking her how was your day
It starts with “After you left …………..” and after a good 15 minutes all I would hear is a steady drone and grasp nothing. Will kick myself, metaphorically, and vow to self never to ask this question again only to stupidly fall into the same trap the next day and………..(play repeat)