The Hub Is Sooooo Annoying

Reading another blog, Ribshack Red, I was directed to this Daily Mail article ; it discusses a report which claims couples argue 312 times a year, on average.  I would say that is definitely not the case with the Hub and I: we argue maybe two or three times a year at most.  We squabble all day long, so we don’t often have the stomach for a real barney.

Look at the list of things that irritate most wives:

1.  Stubble in the sink
2. Dirty marks in the toilet
3. Flicking TV channels
4. Not replacing the toilet roll
5. Leaving the seat up
6. Leaving lights on
7. Leaving dirty cups around the house
8. Leaving wet towels on the floor/bed
9. Hoarding stuff
10. Not flushing the toilet

The only thing I can get him on is Number 9.  This may come as a shock to regular readers but he’s a dreadful hoarder, you know.  Here’s my own list in response:

1. He washes the sink after shaving
2. He knows how to use a toilet brush
3. He flicks only at night when I am in bed
4. He always replaces the toilet roll
5. He has never left the seat up since that terrible November night of 2003 when I went to the loo in the dark and fell in
6. He almost always turns off the lights: enough to get a pass if he forgets
7. He hates to see dirty dishes left lying around and has us all quaking if we forget to take them out when we leave the room.  That’s his mother’s fault: the only advice she gave me on marrying her son was to ‘always clear away dirty dishes at night; you’ll feel better for it’
8. Wet towels left lying around?  Perish the thought!  Think of the mould
9. …
10. People who don’t flush unless they do a clear wee and/or need to save water are the scourge of the earth, is the gist of his thoughts on this last one

So I have no excuse to moan at him or reason to complain: does that not make him the most irritating husband in the world?

A Pet’s Tale

A bit of fun for you, courtesy of a rather good writing prompt from last Sunday’s Stockport Art Gallery Writing Group‘s meeting.

 

 

 

 

A Pet’s Tale

Once there was a spoiled young girl
Her eyes were brown, her hair was curled
She loved to use the telephone
To call her Gran and have a moan
About her little night-time pet
An over-friendly vampire bat

She fed him peach and apple pie
And wondered why he did not fly
She could not see that he was fat
So large, he squashed the family cat
Who died and went off to pet heaven
(That’s what we say to girls of seven)

The bat was called Subversive Jim
By the people close to him
He liked to bury his soft face in
The young girl’s neck and and ear and chin
Sneaking blood when she wasn’t looking
For vampire bats most love sucking

We’re almost done with our sad tale
The child, alas, became quite pale
Her blood supply at last ran out
Leaving old Jim rather stout
But he got his just desserts
He died when his appendix burst

The dead cat’s kin (remember him?)
Gobbled up the greedy Jim
Of Jim was left just one blind eye
Now the end is really nigh
Hear the moral of this story:
Owning pets is sometimes gory