My husband and I have irreconcilable differences. We do. I have always known it to be true. I suppose for a time, I thought there were reconcilable solutions (i.e. he quits being stupid and sees the light of my way). But after several years of marriage, I have finally given up the notion.
For 17 years, my husband and I have had a cold war standoff over differences of great import such as where his muddy shoes should go, how big a pile of dirty laundry can get before going into the hamper (big enough to lose the dog?), the necessity of closing a door if you are going right back through it (personally, I don’t see the point), and whose job it is to clean up the trash after the dog has strewn it all over the yard. But, the deal breaker to, I fear, finally bring down our wall is the pivotal “tucked” or “untucked” issue.
You see, my husband subscribes to the sheet and blanket “untucked” – free to be you and me – feet flapping in the breeze philosophy while I, on the other hand, am a sheet and blanket “tucked” – fully covered – feet tightly bound & gagged – extremist of the most radical kind.
I mean, really, when you take this difference into consideration, how did we ever get together, anyway? The reality is, when you are dating everything is all “schnukems” and “peanut wuvs monkey” – so who cares if your feet freeze (me) or can’t move (him). But when the honeymoon is over – i.e. once you have washed his dirty underwear for the umpteenth time and he has cleaned up everyone’s puke after stomach flew (including the dog’s) – these issues begin to take on a whole new level of importance.
And thus, the cold war began.
So now, when I make the bed, I wrap the sheet and blanket tightly, all the way around to underneath the mattress. When he makes the bed, he leaves the sheet and blanket untucked, and then surreptitiously hides the evidence with the bedspread. Upon going to sleep at night, I will secretly check all bedding to make sure they are securely tucked. However he, in the middle of the night, will dislodge the bedding with a hefty kick of his feet. When I am awoken by the disconcerting feeling of my cold and flapping-in-the-breeze feet I, while resisting the urge to clobber him with the bedside lamp, get up and securely re-tuck all bedding.
And so it goes – which makes me crazy and not a little bit pissed off. The thing is, I know now beyond a shadow of a doubt, for the whole of our life together this tucked vs. untucked Cold War will continue. Neither of us will ever raise the white flag (nor well, sheet) of surrender. It is an issue that cannot be reconciled, ever.
But on the other hand, he does take out the trash…and can fix most anything…and never complains when I spend money…
And the truth is, I just kinda love the guy (and doubt anyone else would put up with me)
So, tucked or untucked, I guess I will keep him.
But, he might want to learn to duck in his sleep…