There's a mostly-full coffee mug in the upstairs bathroom. At first glance, one would assume it mine. It is, after all, the Eeyore mug that Bear gave me for my birthday last year.
Alas, no. Husband left it there this morning after he came in (while I was showering) for a good-bye kiss, a quick ogle and a last sip of coffee before he headed downstairs (where the kitchen is) and off to work (leaving the bathroom door wide open so the draft could pounce in to tackle the luscious steam heat that I had managed to capture).
At this point, it's slightly more than 14 hours old. I'm giving 10 to 1 odds that it'll still be there when we get back from Holiday World on Wednesday.
Husband and I have been working a lot. Mostly opposite hours. He's off on Monday and some arbitrary other day of the week. I'm off on weekends. The heathens are in daycare on Monday and all the other arbitrary work days of the week. They're off on weekends.
I'm a mostly-single mom (according to me, I certainly am not intending to put myself in the single mom's place, they're goddesses). I do all of the shopping (with heathens in tow), cooking, cleaning, laundering, auto-maintaining (on my car), library-running, movie-returning (without the benefit of movie-watching), dry-cleaning-drop-offing, grounding, yelling, no-saying and anti-depressant taking. Plus, I work a 40-50 hour week. And, I have to stay on top of the whole birth control thing just to keep the heathens from becoming any more plural.
In addition to all of the othering-ing I've been doing for the past week, I've also been sick-kid-coddling (surprise! it's not even a holiday) and sick-me-coddling. The living room is a pit, the kitchen is actually clean except for the dishwasher that simply needs to be unloaded and the laundry is done (as much as laundry can really be "done").
So, I'm leaving the cup.
I am smart enough and experienced enough to realize that The Grand Experiment never works. All of the "sigh"'s, and "Honey, that cup is nasty"'s and "Would you take that cup to the kitchen before it takes over the fucking bathroom?"'s in the world aren't going to make a dent in good ole Husband's "Oh, did I leave that cup there?" mentality. He was done with it, therefore it ceased to exist. All it's really going to do is piss me off.
The heathens might notice it though. I'm sure they'll say something. Probably to me, sure, but maybe to him after I repeat "Your daddy left it there." about 65,000,000 times.
Doomed to failure, I take a stand. I'm not sure if that makes me brave or stupid. It does make me feel a little superior. And hopeful. That may just be the anti-depressants talking though.
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3 comments:
If it doesn't bother him enough o clean it up, don't let it bother you. Thats the approach I take now with Gary. He breaks before I do. Except, it takes him two or three months to break. He cleaned the toilet bowl yesterday.
Then we had sex.
It works for me.
As quick on the draw as ever, Your Majesty. Truth be told, it was the early morning ogle and the open bathroom door that got on my nerves. The cup is just there.
I'd be thrilled that the ogling distracted him enough to forget the coffee. That's a plus, right?
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