28.9.15

The Insanity Of Marriage

My husband is 6ft2. And has size 11 feet. And he has these manky flip flops. That are like boats. Actual boats. Boats that could be used if my guinea pigs ever wanted to escape in a flood. And there would still be plenty of room. Every day my husband. Leaves them by the back door. This has been going on for three years. EVERY DAY HE LEAVES THEM BY THE BACK DOOR AND DOES NOT PUT THEM AWAY AND I WANT TO KILL HIM.

Sometimes? I chuck them in the garden in a fit of anger. They return. Sometimes I text "your f*cking flip flops are by the back door AGAIN". They are still there. Sometimes I plan on throwing them away then I forget. These flip flops are a symbol of the insanity of marriage. Or any long term relationship. Today I went shopping and brought five ornanment pumpkins. And I know that at some point tonight my husband will think to himself "those pumpkins are proper sh*t and I want to smash them with my giant flip flops". 

Those. F*CKING. Flip Flops

It could just be us (and here is when I pray it's not just us) but as time goes on there are teeny tiny things about being with someone for such a long time that start to send you insane. You manage to get through the big things. When your daughter starts school? You weep together, you hold each other and get on with it. When there is an emergency rush to the hospital? You work together as a team. One calming the child whilst the other packs a bag. You are (most of the time) totally in sync.

But then there are those moments when you're not. When you both lie there praying the other will get up with the kids at 5am on a Sunday morning. Or when it appears to be your turn to DO THE WASHING UP AGAIN. Or the times when you find a giant pair of green flip flops and it makes you want to grate them into a pile of green plastic. The blips that drive us insane but become part of the blanket of everyday life.

Oh Emma! I LOVE your ornament pumpkins (grrrr)

And it's OK. Because the teeny tiny things don't really matter. Life isn't perfect. And I bet even Jay Z sometimes says "Beyonce stop calling yourself Sasha Fierce. You're Beyonce you daft cow!". Then Blue Ivy falls over and they are working back together as a team*.  So as long as those f*cking flip flops are still looming around my back door and give me something to get really angry about I suppose life is OK. And to get my revenge? One of my new pumpkins is dead sparkly. And I'm going to put it on his bedside table. 

*Yes I do spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about Beyonce and JayZ's life. And they always speak Brummie in my head.
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