confession

I did this:

I did this because, for what felt like the fourteen millionth time inside the span of one hour, I spotted the beau’s flip-flops sprawled on the floor in front of our makeshift storage area in the kitchen. In front of the storage area, instead of tucked neatly away inside of it. And in that moment, this was the ultimate affront. It was like the beau had maliciously placed them there specifically to assault my eyeballs. The very existence of these flip-flops was a scourge on the soul. An abomination to humanity. A middle finger eff-you to order and sanity and righteousness.

So I did the only rational thing a person can do in a situation like this. I picked one up and hurled it into the storage area, and then I picked the other one up and hurled it, too. While shouting expletives.

I coordinated it so that I yelled the loudest during the throwing parts:

[redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [REDACTED], *THUD*
[redacted] [redacted] [redacted] [REDACTED], *THWACK*

Then I heard a small shattering of glass.

Which I ignored.

Until a week later, when I happened to be putting something else away in the storage area and the sunlight was hitting the window just right to see every little crack.

Oops.

Lesson: there are more constructive ways of dealing with your partner’s neatness habits. Whether I will ever actually learn that lesson remains to be seen.

Yes, we keep a pine cone in our storage area. Don't you?

12 Responses to “confession”

  1. I ensure this exact fight happening sometime in our future. Carson will put dishes ON THE COUNTER ABOVE THE DISHWASHER, but not IN the dishwasher, which is open and ready to receive dishes.

    WHYYYYYYY?

  2. oh darling. it’s quite alright. there are much healthier ways, but damn if it didn’t feel good for a moment, eh? i have had not ONE, but TWO of these fucking humiliating experiences. one with a shoe thrown at Isaiah’s head that broke a vase ON my foot. it was the most blood i’ve ever lost at once. the other was the windshield of my car because i was a nervous wreck telling him “I liked him” for the first time? yeah. i kicked that shit out with my bare feet. why?

    maybe the storage area likes the fresh air, anyway, eh?

  3. I’ve broken hangers before in why-the-hell-can’t-you-just-put-things-AWAY!! rage because, well obviously breaking things is the most rational response to such an assault.

    And maybe my perspective is all off, but is that the biggest pine cone in all of California that you have in your storage space?

  4. I have to admit, it’s a pretty big pine cone.

  5. That’s akin to my hidden wish to put the dirty dishes that J insists on leaving on the counter onto his side of the bed. Except that then I’d be stuck washing the sheets *and* his dishes. Maybe I’ll stuff them in his sock drawer instead.

  6. YES. This is entirely reasonable. What is NOT reasonable is leaving your FUCKING shoes lying around the FUCKING house instead of PUTTING THEM the fuck AWAY!!!!

    Frankly I think the beau got off lightly. Usually I just hurl them at my husband’s head. It’s only a matter of time before a window gets it.

  7. Oh yes, this is the only rational response, really. But this is coming from someone who has been known to throw wire hangers out the window when finding them on the FLOOR for the millionth time.

  8. what kind of bullshit is that window made of that it can’t take a flip flop? a shoe maybe but… and that seems completely rational to me. Although, sometimes I feel as if I’ve given up and now I just throw my shoes wherever and leave my clothes in a heap on the floor. until G finally folds his laundry and then I feel shame. I don’t think I ever win with this one. And he insists that the reason he can’t see the bathtub needs scrubbing is because he doesn’t wear glasses in the shower. dont’ you just know that eventually you have to scrub the bathtub? ??

  9. Oh. Ohhh. Ohhhhhhhh. Did you see my picture of the toilet paper roll sitting on the floor DIRECTLY underneath the roller? I mean, for all the love, did some bone sucking monster sneak in through the window and suck all of the bones out of your arm JUST as you were thhhhiiisss close to putting the new roll where it belonged? And the clean dishes. Why are they always stacked on the counter directly above the cupboard where they belong? When I ask, he says he doesn’t know where they go. What? It’s so hard to open a fucking cupboard door? You had the general vicinity. Fuck me.

    Of course, yesterday morning, Tony ever so quietly whispered in my ear, “Could you please rinse out your cereal bowl before you set it in the sink? Which was probably a healthier reaction than tweeting a picture of my misdeeds.

  10. The Candyman and I have a new rule for reasons similar to this: no throwing of anything ever. It’s a good rule in theory. we’ll see if it stands the test of time.

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