Lesson Not Taught

Lesson Not Taught

Reoccurring problem. My husband sees an empty space and fills it. For him, domestic space is like a supermarket parking lot. If you don’t see a car there, feel free to drive into the spot. To me, our domestic space is a like an apartment building with leased parking spaces. Only one item has legitimate claim to any given area. You cannot be where you don’t belong, or you will be towed away at your own expense.

At the end of our hallway is large desk size built in shelf. This space has been doing triple duty for more than two and half years. One third is where I store my two purses, next to that is overflow food storage, and next to that are hard drives. Don’t worry, the sugar does not comingle with the technology. They are separated by bins and baskets. As I write it out, this arrangement sounds strange. I wish it were differernt but who has the time and space to make things not weird.

So yesterday, both purses are lolling around in chairs making it hard to sit down. Tidying up, I gather them, walk them over to the purse basket and find a five-pound bag of whole wheat flour sitting in their spot! UGH! I am instantly annoyed. My kid wanders by, and I ask in a rather surly tone,

Did you put this here?!

No!

Just as I suspected, it’s dad! I am going to teach him a lesson.

My kid looks at me skeptically. Maybe even disapprovingly. I probably should heed the message in their body language, but the rush of frustration is already in full gallop, and I march the big bag of flour to his desk and deposit it in his chair. Now he will know what it is like to find a place you intend to use blocked by a ridiculous culinary obstacle.

I bide my time, waiting for him to need his computer. I am waiting for some type of outburst. Disappointed, nothing happens.

I check his chair and the flour is gone. It’s back on the shelf next to the purses where it belongs. I retrieve it and march it back to him.

Did you notice this on your chair? I demand.

I was wondering how that got there, he says totally nonchalant. It’s like it doesn’t matter one way or another. What’s so mysterious about a five-pound bag of flour showing up in your office? It doesn’t faze him. In his world, bags of flour being accidently deposited on office chairs is just a thing that can happen that needs no explanation, that jumpstarts no line of questioning, it forces no interrogation of fellow family members. This man cannot be taught a lesson!

I attempt to explain the outlandish violation and he says he has no idea that my purses go in a purse basket. He says he thought the whole thing was grocery storage.

What?!?

Well, here’s what. What I think of as our systems are really only my systems. He says now he knows and will not do it again.

That should make me happy, and it’s probably true as who wouldn’t want to avoid another run in with me in this state. But I am not satisfied. I wanted to make him be like me and he is not like me.

He is not like me.

This is a good thing. He doesn’t explode out of the blue. He doesn’t need organizational integrity to be ok. And it’s okay that I do create systems. I just need to understand that I am the person responsible for their maintenance. I am best suited for that, and he is best suited for not being a critical jerk.

I am the one who keeps not learning the lesson. I need to learn the lesson.

Sidewalk Face 1230 and 1231.

Voted Best Sidewalk Face Maker in North America

Voted Best Sidewalk Face Maker in North America

Can you believe it? We were honored with this award by the North American Sidewalk Face Federation. I’m over the moon! What until I tell my mom!

What’s going to happen to the competition when they get a load of this?! Guess who will be landing all the top tier sidewalk face making gigs for the next year? Ha! It’s my time to shine. The voters have had their say and they pick me!

Alright, alright. Let me tone it down and tell you what’s really going on. My brother and I were strolling down Beverly Boulevard chatting. We walk past Shaky Alibi and noticing the giant banner they have over the front entrance; he articulates something I’ve been mentally chewing on for years. He says, Exactly how many waffle voters are there? 

The banner reads, “Voted Best Waffles in America.” It’s been there for more than a decade.

Every time I see that sign, I think, says who?! And what do they know about waffles? Waffle preferences aren’t exactly standardized. I believe a waffle loving person can tell a great waffle from a mediocre one, but do I trust they can determine the best of the bunch? How would you ever have enough money and resources to sample all the waffles and who would fund it? To what end? It’s not a reasonable thing to research. It’s simply a marketing ploy. Get someone to say you are the best and voilĂ , you are the best. So, I am now doing that here.

I am the founder of the North American Sidewalk Face Federation. Currently I am also the only member. Care to join? They are known for rewarding members with extravagant awards!

SIDEWALK FACE 969

Why Did You Do a Stupid Thing?

Why Did You Do a Stupid Thing?

My husband has informed me that he never wants to hear a certain line of questioning ever again. He told me this as part of a post panic debriefing due to my misplacement of some important and expensive items. While I was manically looking in places I knew the items would never be, he stayed calm and assured me I would find them, they weren’t stolen and they were sure to turn up. He offered suggestions that proved useful. When I told him, I needed him to stop talking he stopped.

Now that the items have been found, partly due to his help, he is wondering if he has enough martial capital to request I stop saying the following aloud: 

Why did you let that soapy glass slip from your fingers into the sink basin and shatter inconveniently all over the place? Were you unable to think of a better alternative? Do you need verbal harassment to stop this mundane and accidental outcome from occurring in the future?

I don’t get it love, but I will try.