I miss the old days – you know which ones I am talking about. The ones where my husband paid attention to what I said, and actually remembered the conversation at a later date.
Hubby and I were out driving around last week. We have long talked about whether or not we live in our “forever” house. We have a check list of what it would take to entice us to move: a single story house, on the water, some acreage for privacy, are the top three. I love a little town called Lewiston that is up near Lake Ontario. If I had my druthers, we’d find a reasonably priced house on the water that was a new-ish ranch with some land.
Me and a bazillion other people.
From time to time Hubby and I look at the real estate section from Lewiston through Porter, and see what’s available. Well, a few weeks ago Hubby spotted one in our price range that ticked off our main check list points. Well, as you know, a good real estate photographer and a great fiction writer can make any property seem like Windsor Castle, so we made an appointment with a realtor to check out the place to see what it is really like.
Welllllll this isn’t an area we are unfamiliar with. Hubby actually has hunting land a stones throw away (seriously). So I punched the address into the GPS for directions on how to get there, and that is when our troubles began.
The GPS had us going some convoluted dirt road way that both Hubby and I knew would take twice as long as either the expressway or cutting up some main roads. I (foolishly) started following the GPS, and then changed my mind 10 minutes into the route and went on the expressway at the last second.
All this with a lot of “help” and “encouragement” from Hubby.
I’m not sure where he got the idea that I appreciated a back-seat, er, passenger seat driver. As anyone knows in our relationship, I am the only one allowed to give driving “advice”. (Hubby says I’m really not allowed to give him driving “advice”, I’m only allowed to say something if my life is in imminent danger. Pffffft to that!)
At one point our conversation went like this:
Me: “Remember what your friends told you when we first got married?”
Hubby: “A quiet wife is a happy husband?”
Me: Look of death.
Hubby: “A crazy Pooky is a happy Pooky?”
Me: Serious look of death.
Sometimes I wonder if it is worth it to Hubby? I can do the silent treatment with the best of ’em, and believe me, Hubby, for all that he does not appear to pay attention to me when I speak, does not appreciate the silent treatment.
And no, I have no idea what sparked the exchange! I just know whatever it was, he was wrong.
• For more Crap My Hubby Says/Does, click here.