You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me

You’ve Got To Be Kidding Me

My inner critic sucks. The epitome of never happy. You cannot please them. Every choice is wrong. Until this recent revelation, I thought they just had an extremely narrow definition of success. I didn’t realize how useless they were. I am glad I know. Let me tell you what they did in case yours is pulling the same boondoggle.

As mentioned in a recent post, I bought myself a new little hardback art journal. I am mostly making abstract grid patterns. It’s fun, relaxing and inspirational. The patterns are evolving rapidly and it’s super exciting to me. I thought it would be exciting to the inner critic too. I thought the main thing the inner critic was mad about was us not making enough art. They are always yapping away at me that I am wasting time, not completing projects, not drawing, not working harder. So, this explosion of art making that’s been going on was sure to be crowd pleaser. I was even expecting a pat on the back.

So I was making art the other evening, drawing in my book and I did a page, finished it pretty fast and felt I wanted to keep going so I did a second version, then I started a third. This is cool, theme and variation, exploration, not getting tired or bored. Well guess what my little turd of an inner critic starts to say: Hey, you only have about 1/4 of the book left, are you really going to use up your remaining pages on this? It’s not that good. You are going too fast, you should only make one a day. At this rate your book won’t last through July. It won’t last the summer. I thought it was called the Summer Fun Book. You already have too many books. You can’t blow through books this fast. What are you going to do with all these books when you have to move?

STOP!

Let me get this straight, I am bad if I don’t make art and I am bad if I make too much?

You are fired! I am firing you. You do not have the job anymore. I do not want you around. You suck.

Does anyone know a pleasant and supportive inner voice that needs a home. I am currently hiring.

Sidewalk Face 94

Husband Does Dishes. Wife Gives Him Grief.

Husband Does Dishes. Wife Gives Him Grief.

I might be a moron. Or I might have a legitimate gripe. I am not sure. You tell me.

I think I’m better at systems than my husband. But what’s the prize for having the best system? It’s not as if we are both going to a systems review committee and one of us gets a prize. Then the person who doesn’t get the prize is like, OMG, I love you more than ever. How am I so lucky to live with someone more clever than me? Please remind me of that daily. It’s so inspirational.

Let me lay out the nuts and bolts. We don’t have a dishwasher. We are the dishwasher. Therefore, there are always dirty dishes to do and there are always clean dishes in the rack needing to be put away. You wash a dish drain’s worth, let them dry, put them away and then do some more.

Not my husband. He likes to add wet dishes to the dry dishes. If the rack is full and there are two spoons in the sink, he will wash the stupid spoons, sprinkling water all over everything as he nestles them in with the dry ones. Now you can’t put the clean dishes away because they are no longer dry. This is like moving the trash bins to the end of the driveway before backing out. It doesn’t work! Wrong order!

We’ve discussed his methodology almost as frequently as talking about what’s for dinner. He’s not a fan of this conversation and more accurately describes it as berating. After countless spins on the merry go round of why are you like this, I’m still not sure. Direct inquiry has not been as revealing as hoped, but I think he just hates putting dishes away. He prefers washing. I find this so weird. Washing is way worse than emptying. But there it is. We are different. We have different preferences.

So how big of a deal is this? Is this a good hill to die on? Is there a scenario where I will truly be happier if I shame my dish washing husband into washing fewer dishes? Has any wife ever asked this question? What is wrong with me!

Since I am so freaking good at systems, even I can see that I am the problem here. Efficiency is a useful tool for time management but it’s not a treasure. Of all the things holding me back from peace of mind, the state of the dish drain is not one of them. I’ve never thought, I’ve got to get into therapy and deal with this dish drain situation. I can’t take one more minute of it! Okay, actually I have thought that.

I am starting to see that my desire for rigid systems is the way I self regulate. If the chores are under control. Then maybe my life is under control. When I see my husband sprinkle water on dry dishes it can feel like he is inviting chaos over for dinner. I am not saying he is; I am saying it can feel like it. But that’s on me. It’s not true and it’s a stupid over reaction.

I really love being efficient but as I stated here, Being Efficient isn’t a Great Epithet, rather than be admired for something that leads to imperceptible gains, I should like to be remembered as someone who was pleasant to be around. Maybe those newly wet tupperware lids are a sign to go make some art or tell someone I love them.