A Loved One’s True Confessions
Skippy Massey
Humboldt Sentinel
Lately my husband has been crossing the bathroom boundaries.
I explained to him how not ok this was and figured we could just move on.
Just to be on the safe side though, I began locking the bathroom door whenever I would go in.
Since we don’t have a key, It did have the intended effect in that he could no longer just open the door whenever he felt like it but then he started doing something just as annoying: he now will knock on the door incessantly until I emerge from the bathroom.
Do you know how hard it is peacefully use the toilet while somebody is repeatedly knocking on the door? And do you know that I also have a 2-year-old who won’t let me go to the bathroom by myself and stares at me while I’m trying to *ahem* “do my business”?
So between the two of them, there is not a chance in hell I can ever just get a few moments to myself.
At some point, I suppose that my husband decided that knocking on the door wasn’t annoying enough; he had to up his game. Thinking that there was no way that he could possibly manage to be more annoying, I felt pretty sure that although I had to put up with the knocking, at least I was safe in the bathroom by myself.
So naive. I was sitting on the toilet the other night and after a few minutes of knocking, it stopped. “Ah, he finally gave up,” I thought. And then I heard a noise at the door. It continued for a minute and then all of a sudden, the door flew open.
Yup, my husband had picked the lock. The unbelievable thing was that he actually thought I would find it funny. He thought I would appreciate the fact that he had managed to figure out how to pick a lock. Clearly my husband has overestimated my sense of humor because I didn’t find it amusing at all.
My husband has a habit of shoving a million things in his pockets and leaving them there: tissues, receipts, pens, change and more tissues.
The amount of tissues my husband goes through on a daily basis is enough to keep Kleenex in business for a long, long time. He likes to wad up the tissues and store them in his pockets so they can be easily accessible whenever he needs them.
Listen, I’m not going to complain about my husband having all kinds of sinus issues and needing to blow his nose all the time. (But the snoring the sinus issues cause? Well, that is something I will complain about…and often do.)
The problem is that he never empties his pockets before he throws his pants or shorts into the hamper. Ever. And because I always do, I’m just not in the habit of checking pockets before I put the clothes in the washer.
I usually end up regretting that oversight because when the load is done and I go to take the clothes out, what I usually end up seeing is a washing machine full of shreds of tissue. Seriously, everywhere and on every piece of clothing in there.
I then attempt to shake off all the clothes before I put them in the dryer but usually end up missing some shreds and also forget to recheck all the pockets for tissue remnants so when the clothes are done, they have even more tissue fragments adhered to them.
I have often unknowingly gone to work with tissue shreds on the back of my shirt. There were also times when I’d see tissues on my husband’s clothes before he left for work and I debated whether I should tell him or not. I’m not ashamed to tell you that there were plenty of times I decided not to.
My husband and I have two cars. There is generally one that I drive and one that he drives but sometimes we trade off depending on who is taking care of our daughter that day or who needs the bigger car.
There is one thing that pretty much never changes, though. No matter which car I use, my husband has almost always left it without gas.
You would think that by now I’d have learned to build a little extra time in my day to take the car that he left without gas and fill it up but for some reason it always surprises me.
This morning I had to take the car that he has been using so I could drive our kid to school. We were running late and of course, this is the response that greeted me (It’s the same every. single. time):
“Oops. I didn’t notice.”
One of these days I’m going to throw out all of his coffee and when he asks where it all went, I’ll just say, “Oops. I didn’t notice that it all ended up in the garbage can.”
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From MyHusbandisAnnoying.com
About the Anonymous Author: I got married in March, 2009 at the beautiful Carneros Inn in Napa, CA. My husband and I had been mostly either long-distance or on-and-off in the years preceding our marriage and so, when the hubby moved in with me just 2 weeks before the wedding, I really got to discover just how annoying he can be.
Don’t get me wrong – I love my husband tons but Dear God, he can irritate the crap outta me.
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