When my husband finally
makes it past St Peter and on through the golden gates in to heaven and follows
to long queue of people waiting to have their virtues weighed against their
sins, he will still not be that concerned, since he is of the opinion that he
is already some sort of saint.
Don’t get me wrong by
thinking that I am putting him down unduly because I am the first one to praise
his good points. He has put up with me for nigh on 40 years and that alone is
amazing, because I am not the easiest person in the world to be stuck with day
in and day out. I admit that I am not without faults either. We both
have pretty definite ideas that now and again do clash. We do talk things
through calmly rather than lose it completely and scream and shout at each
other. In fairness I am not even sure if Steve has a temper to lose.
The things he does that I
am happy with (that he prefers to do because he enjoys those jobs) are: He
loves to cook and that also means that he likes to control the food we eat. He
also wants to do the food shopping; this he does daily so that we only have
very fresh food. We have a small food cupboard fridge and a small freezer in
the kitchen, then, in the garage we have a big fridge freezer. None of these
fridges are EVER full. Neither are the kitchen cupboards. He insists that
shopping is done daily. We keep very little food. I say we, but actually that
is HIM. We do not keep a stock of: snacks, no crisps, sweets, biscuits.
Yes, Steve is a bit of a
control freak. He takes complete command of the business and is a master
planner. I do all the computer work, mainly at home; emails, inventories,
invoices etc. I am also head gardener…. He does not like that job.
I do have my own set of
rules, that he very often takes no notice of what so ever. A moment ago, I
asked him if he was aware of any of the things that I don’t like him doing and frequently
ask him not to do. He responded immediately with. “Take my shoes, boots, trainers
off before I come into the house, Don’t bash the spoiler on the car when I park
outside the coffee shop, Don’t put the rubbish out before we go swimming on
Wednesday, And I’m not allowed to go to the tip”.
That is the full list of
my important rules. However, last Thursday whilst my friend Helen from over the
road who does my hair was here, He came in the back door, walked through into
the lounge and sat down with his work boots still on. Last Wednesday he put the
rubbish out at 6.10 am. He is not allowed to go to the tip because he thinks
that none of the careful sorting rules apply to him. He has been barred. The
guys at the tip therefore, feel sorry for me and fall over themselves to be
helpful when I go on my own. I smile sweetly and thank them.
This morning when we drove
to Arundel to meet a friend at Swanbourne Lake Lodge, he parked in exactly the same
wrong place and ripped the spoiler right off at one end. I reasonably calmly, asked
him why he did that, when I had told him so many times not to. Then I told him
that he was never ever, for the rest of his life, to park there again and
added, “Have you got that Stephen”?
“Yes”, he said, but he was
smiling!
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