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Ideal marriage: secret fridge of Greek yogurt & he lives across the street

September 9, 2009

I love having house guests.  And I love “Barb.”  But “Barb” made me seriously fear being able to share a house with a husband.

“Barb,” a college roommate, recently stayed with me for five days.  She is not a pig, she is not oblivious, she is not inconsiderate.  She’s a good friend and we had a FANTASTIC time.  Yet I couldn’t race home fast enough after dropping her off at O’Hare to grab a rag and my 409.

Barb’s Transgressions

1. Toothpaste: I squeeze my toothpaste bottom to top.  If there’s a quarter of a tube left, it’s all stored up in the first quarter closest to the opening.  Why would you squeeze the tube so that the paste ends up at the bottom???  All those wasted nano-seconds pushing it back up.

2. Soap dish: I keep a bar of Dove in an open soap dish in the shower.  This has never been a problem.  I scrub, put the bar back, and it’s there, dry and perky the next time.  After “Barb’s” showers, the bar would be swimming in an ocean of water, which not only feels less clean but also is a money-waster.  The cesspool of water  disintegrates the soap.  While I’m sleeping, I’m losing money!

3. Coffee-Rings: “Barb” loves iced coffee.  “Barb’s” love of iced coffee left its mark all over my dining room table, coffeetable, and kitchen island.  Perhaps she didn’t notice the twenty coasters sprinkled politely yet suggestively about the room.

4. Toilet Lid: Toilets look prettier when the lid is down, especially if it has a cover.  So why would you leave it up?  Don’t you like things to be pretty?

5. Picture: A picture of my mom and I rested in the corner of my windowsill.  Suddenly it was two inches to the right of where it usually lay.  Are you trying to make me nuts?!?!

6. Fage Yogurt: This is Greek yogurt that costs $4.69 for a smallish-tub (“Pricing Doesn’t Faze Fan’s of Fage’s Yogurt” article).  After my initial glee that “Barb” loved my breakfast concoction of Fage, honey, walnuts, blueberries and flax-seed, because who wouldn’t want a guest to feel so at home in your place that she makes herself a heaping bowl every morning, even the morning we go to Ann Sather’s for breakfast where they stuff you full of warm cinnamon rolls so why would you eat yogurt beforehand, I began to calculate how much of my last check was being sucked down her throat with each spoonful.  Forget the number of times she’s paid for my share of whatever.  Forget the plane ticket she bought to come here from Boston.  Forget the plane ticket she bought to meet me in London, where I had flown for free, for work.  Forget the $200 check she brought with her to London for me, a gift from her mom.  It’s like she was taking twenty-dollar bills from my wallet and tantalizingly eating them in front of my flinching face.

I hate myself that I got so worked up over frivolous nothings.  “Barb” did nothing wrong.  She did not consciously say, “I am going to fuck with Saya by moving this picture over two inches.”  I hate myself even more because I fully realize these were frivolous nothings.  Teens who can’t read?  Yes horrible, but what about my Fage?!?!  I could’ve just said something.  But I knew how ridiculous I was being.  But I still hated it.  And now doubt that my husband, whoever he is, can live in the same house as me.  I’ll have a house across the street from him, where the toothpaste is squeezed properly and with a secret Fage-filled fridge.

Another instance of me being silly-cheap and silly-horrible

I recently had to make a dish to bring to a party.  While I don’t buy organic everything due to the expense, I do buy organic milk.  I actually made a special trip to Jewel when I saw the recipe called for milk though I had a full gallon of organic milk in the fridge to buy some regular ol’ filled with hormones Dean’s.  Why would I waste pricey organic milk on other people?

I’m having a slight panic attack because I don’t know how to do the quotation marks when mentioning her-name-is-not-really-Barb with an apostrophe “s” i.e. “Barb’s” so and so….   Ah crap!  Now I’m having a heart murmur on top of the panic attack because I’m not sure if I should’ve used “e.g.” instead of “i.e.”

2 Comments leave one →
  1. November 3, 2009 12:57 AM

    Oh Saya! Boy can I relate! I too, have been wondering if I can truly share a house with a husband for similar reasons! And I feel bad for wanting my boyfriend to go home after he has spent the 2nd night in a row at my place – but it’s like, can you please, please, puh-leeze put the toilet seat down, rinse the peanut butter knife before putting it in the jelly jar, and for goodness sake after your shower, dry off in the bathroom! because air-drying just leaves droplets of water trailing down the hall…! 🙂

  2. Ken Kendall permalink
    September 9, 2009 7:04 PM

    This is great.

    I just started a new blog on marriage and would love you to take a look and give your thoughts and comments.


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