I would never complain about my hubby on Medium

I think my husband thinks I’m preparing a Medium exposé on him. He has literally been sneaking around behind my back, trying to catch a glimpse of what I’m writing about. I know he’s suspicious.

He saw me working on the post about what he left in the compost bin (which is undoubtedly my best work to date, in case you missed it) and ever so politely said, “May I ask why you’re using that photo?”

And then he proceeded to defend his composting decision, even though I agreed that it was the right decision — it just startled me when I was half asleep and went to throw coffee grounds in there.

I think he thinks that my post about the things I do that irritate him was my way of pre-justifying a post about his annoying habits.

Don’t worry, hon, if you’re reading this, I wouldn’t do that.

I mean, what would there be to write about, really?

There is the thing with the CDs, but it’s such a little thing. So what if you don’t put CDs back in the correct cover. And then complain when you can’t find a CD.

Everyone already knows about how you put the toilet roll on the holder in the dreaded underhand fashion. That’s old news.

What’s the big deal if people know that you don’t start putting your seat belt on until the car is already moving and that sometimes you make the car wobble a bit because you’re so busy dicking around trying to get your belt done up that you’re not paying attention to driving? What’s the worst that could happen? Maybe they would think to themselves “gee, wouldn’t it be easier to put the belt on BEFORE the car starts moving? That would make more sense.” Inconsequential in the scheme of things.

I wouldn’t see the point in telling the world how you won’t take the blender apart to wash it, so I always have to re-wash it, because it doesn’t really bother me that much. The fact that you don’t notice the repeated displays of the sparkling clean blender in separate pieces on the bench, well, that’s no biggie either. It does make that nerve in the crease above my lip start twitching, but it’s cool.

We’re cool.

We’re just lucky that, even after five long years, we haven’t reached that stage where we can’t have a good laugh about those little things we do that get on each other’s nerves.

Right?

Right.

Love you. Mwah!

P.S. Notice anything clean, and taken apart, on the sink?

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