Pillows, a follow up

"Husband, I want my pillow back. You stole it, and I want it back."

"You gave it to me."

"No, I didn't give it to you. YOU STOLE IT. You KNEW my neck hurt when you tried to give me your pillow. That is MY pillow. MINE. Motha! bought it for me right before I left for college. She and I bought it. TOGETHER. So, not only are you stealing neck comfort from me, you are also stealing A MEMORY."

"You gave it to me."

"I DID NOT. I realized one night that my neck hurt, and that you had taken my pillow. I made you give the pillow back, but you only stole it from me again. This happened again and again, the stealing and the reclaiming and the complaining and the stealing and the whining, and despite my best efforts to annoy you into leaving me alone, YOU KEPT STEALING MY PILLOW. Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, I just stopped making you give it back. I gave up. You wore me down to my last shred of dignity."

"Right. You gave it to me."

not exactly taking one for the team

Husband and I really hate going to the grocery store. Its just a pain. In fact, I don't know anyone who actually likes going to the grocery store. Anyone? Seriously? Does anyone like it?

Because of our intense dislike of shopping for groceries (which makes sense for me because I just hate shopping in general, but Husband? The cover model? He who shops for fun? What's up with that?), we usually put it off until the last minute. For us, the last minute is late Sunday night after our Life Group. So, a few nights ago, we found ourselves, once again, trudging to the grocery store.

Sometimes we use the "divide and conquer" method to get ourselves out of there more quickly; Husband will gather his lunch-packing essentials while I take care of produce and dinner items. Well, Sunday night at the last minute I realized that I needed an avacado to serve with our tortilla soup.

"Will you run back and grab an avacado?"

"I don't know how to pick one."

"Really? Its really easy. I'll teach you. You just gently---"

"I'm sorry. What I meant was 'I don't want to'."

you don't find honesty like this everywhere

"Will you get the gum out?"

"Sure. Here you go."

"I meant get the gum out for you."

"What?"

"Your breath is gross."

[Silence.]

"Husband, you are SO lucky God gave you such a pretty face."

"I know. I think He gave it to me for our marriage. To help me survive."

in which I play a game, but he wins

Husband and I went to the movies a few weekends ago, and I was really in the mood for lighter fare. We'd been on a string of Oscar movies (Doubt, Rachel Getting Married, Benjamin Button, Slumdog Millionaire) and I really just needed to LAUGH. Because seriously, Oscar movies are not funny. So, to counteract all the socially-conscious, deep-thought-inducing films we'd recently seen, we decided to see He's Just Not That Into You. If you're not familiar, this film is based on a recent book that essentially mocks all of the horrible things women do in relationships. Because, you know, all women are sad and desperate and want nothing more than to cling to the hope of finding true love with whatever schmuck crosses their path. But I digress.

SO, in the spirit of the film we were about to see, I spent the car ride annoying Husband with all kinds of cliche "woman" comments about our "connection" and our "chemistry" and how he "really gets me." It really didn't help that I'd just finished watching a season of The Bachelor, so I had a wealth of material to draw from. I made sure to answer any of his comments by telling him how attractive he is and how he's everything I'm looking for and to fall into high pitched giggles with little to no warning. You can imagine how much fun this game was for him.

He tried at one point to turn the discussion to something more serious by bringing up a moment from Slumdog Millionaire. (As if that would stop me.) We were listening to the (amazing) soundtrack, and he tried to talk about the moment from the film associated with the song we were listening to.

"This is when he sees her on the platform at the train station."

"AWWWWWWWWWW! BAAAAAAAAAAABE! This song is so beautiful. Its the sound of a DEEP connection between people, you know? I hope that THIS is the song you hear when you think of me."

"What?"

"When you think of me. There should be music. Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaabe! Don't you hear music when you think of me?"

"Ummm, no."

"WHAT?!?! Baaaaaaaaaabe, you don't think of me EVER!"

"I'm married to you. What else would I think about?"

"And you miss me when I'm gone. Like, REALLY?"

"Of course I miss you when you're gone. Especially when there's no food."

affirmation

My latest goal in life is to prepare fully balanced meals.

Wow, that was quite housewife of me. They're going to revoke my Feminist card. [At least The Boss will be pleased.]

When I first got married, I was barely able to get a sufficiently cooked protein on the plate, but I am now feeling like its important to have side dishes and bread thrown into the mix. I have been a bit cocky about this lately. When Husband and I sit down to plates that are full of three or four different food items, I have been known to say things like, "I am so glad I can feed you so well. Aren't you glad you married me? I am basically awesome."

[PLEASE remember before you judge me that I never cooked a day in my life until right before I got married and I still break out into hives when making something for the first time. Don't you remember this little debacle? And this one?]

The only problem with this is that Husband likes very few vegetables that are traditionally used for side items. He does not like corn. He does not like squash. Besides vegetables, I have only ever used rice as a side item, and guess what he REALLY doesn't like? Yeah. Rice. I am basically limited to potatoes and salad. That's it.

About a week ago, I thought I would give green beans a try. BAH! While he took a generous portion, Husband ate about 2.5 green beans. After dinner, I called him out about it.

"Wow, so no green beans, huh?"

"Yeah..... green beans are gross."

I think he noticed my crestfallen expression at my failure to provide acceptable side items because he immediately grabbed my butt and said, "YOUR green beans were delicious."

[Smirk.]

brown bag

I may have mentioned a time or two that I am a penny-pincher. I actually don't think there is a word in the English language to describe my intense desire to save money. I never buy anything that isn't absolutely necessary. I don't buy clothing for myself unless I absolutely need it for a specific purpose; why do so when you can get clothing for Christmas from your parents? When it comes to groceries, I buy necessities--as in, what is needed to sustain life--only. I never bought anything like cookies or ice cream, which I consider superfluous and indulgent, until I married Husband, the consummate sweet tooth. There is almost nothing I wouldn't do to save a few bucks.

If you know Husband and I, you know that this creates.... tension... between us at times. Husband is much more well-adjusted when it comes to money. He doesn't consider buying ice cream a crime, and he isn't racked with guilt when he goes out to eat. He also tends to make purchases that I don't quite understand. (Did you NEED that shirt? Were you told to buy it for work? Are you performing with a doo-wop group that calls for some kind of uniform? WHAT WAS THE SPECIFIC REASON FOR BUYING THE SHIRT?)

I tend to lose my mind most frequently over the fact that we eat out so much. Husband and I LOVE to go out for dinner, which can be rather costly. On a given weekend, we may eat out Friday night, Saturday night, and Sunday afternoon. In addition, Husband tends to buy lunch every day of the week. Admit it, even for you normal people, that seems like a lot. To me it is MADNESS.

Husband has always said (at least for the past year or so) that he would eat a sandwich for lunch every day if I would pack it for him. Pack you own sandwich, I would retort. And so, the sandwich would go unmade, and another $7 would be spent that day on lunch. ($7 A DAY! FIVE DAYS A WEEK! I am hyperventilating just describing it.) Every few weeks, when I have my regular panic attack about the money we spend eating out, Husband reminds me that really, its my own fault that he eats out for lunch because if I would make him a bag lunch, he would eat it.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Finally, two weeks ago, I finally got over my aversion to the "make my lunch for me" idea in favor of saving money. I bought all the lunch meat, chips, and cookies (of course) needed to feed Husband for the week, and every morning, he wakes me up (usually by screaming "SANDWICH!") so I can feel like we are saving money. He has even taken to taunting me in the morning, a la "I'm about leave! You better make me lunch or I will be forced to go out! Probably somewhere expensive!"

(Have we discussed the fact that Husband lists among his hobbies Getting a Rise Out of My Wife?)

Anyway, this morning, I was gently awoken with a kiss on my forehead and a whispered goodbye. Darting out of bed, I cried out in my coffee-less morning stupor, "LUNCH! I GOT IT! GIVE ME TWO MINUTES!"

"I'm leaving."

"But... lunch!?"

"I'm on my way out the door."

"NO! Lunch!"

Patting my arm, he says, nonchalantly, "Oh, I made my own lunch."

If I didn't know my granny reads this (hi!), I would say that THAT is the language that can get a man lucky.

I commenced with cooing and petting and telling him how I proud I was. He just kissed me again and headed for the car. As I laid back down in the glow of marital bliss, I heard him call from the door,

"Just this once."

pillow negotiations

So, Husband and I have been fighting lately over a pillow.

Husband is ridiculously particular about his pillows. I have already taken him to Bed, Bath & Beyond TWICE to buy him a new pillow because something was wrong with the last one we purchased. Each time, he tries to convince me that I was the one who talked him into buying the last, obviously inadequate, pillow. He didn't want that pillow; I MADE him buy that pillow. Thus, he needs a new pillow of his own choosing.

About ten days ago, I realized that neck was really hurting. After a little sleuthing, I noticed that Husband had switched our pillows. Generally, I prefer a solid pillow with lots of neck support, while Husband has always purchased softer pillows. Apparently, I had been sleeping for a few days on the flat pillow that Husband had suddenly disregarded. When confronted, Husband resorted to his usual tactics.

"My pillow is HORRIBLE."

"We JUST bought that pillow for you a few months ago! Don't you remember? We spent like an hour in there while you tried out EVERY SINGLE PILLOW THEY HAD. You chose that pillow and would not hear of any other pillow. WE BOUGHT THE EXPENSIVE PILLOW. You have to live with your choice."

"But I hate it."

Naturally, I beat Husband with the pillow a little bit, then took it back.

However, the next night, Husband accused ME of stealing HIS pillow.

"Give me my pillow."

"I'm sorry, are you asking if you can use MY pillow?"

"I'm saying you need to give me MY pillow back."

"MY NECK IS SORE. I CAN'T SLEEP WITH YOUR PANCAKE PILLOW."

Some friendly pillowfighting commenced, but I managed to sleep with my own pillow that night. Since then, a subtle pillow conspiracy has been unfolding in our house. The pillow migrates to various locations as we each try to steal it without the other noticing. I have resorted to swapping other pillows from the guestroom or taking pillows out of shams in a desperate attempt to keep my beloved pillow, but I have a feeling Husband still has a few tricks up his sleeve. All I can say is that if we are coming over, hide any and all bedding you want to keep. I think he would snatch a friend's pillow before asking his tightwad wife to buy him yet another pillow.