Whenever my husband is making me particularly crazy with one of those “things” that drives me insane, I think back to something Jenna McCarthy, author of If It Was Easy, They’d Call the Whole Damn Thing a Honeymoon: Living with and Loving the TV-Addicted, Sex-Obsessed, Not-So-Handy Man You Married, told me her husband said to her. . .
“Honey, you have so many things.”
And it’s true. From the multiple pairs of shoes my husband leaves strewn in every room of the house except the mudroom, to the dried globs of jelly and oatmeal on the kitchen counter, there is a list of items that make me a little crazy. Or, when discovered in rapid succession (as in came in door, trip over pair of shoes, find children playing video games on school night before placing work papers in glob of jelly) which can send me right over the top.
For the most part, I actually understand the why of most of these little annoyances because they all have a similar theme and are fairly harmless – he gets distracted and leaves his sneakers in the front hallway, he gets distracted and forgets to wipe down the counter, he gets distracted and lets the kids run amok. But there is one thing he does that has gone to the top of my marital pet peeve list, mostly because I don’t understand it.
My husband has an issue with the mail.
He doesn’t like to open the mail, but he is the one who pays all the bills. He regularly complains about things we weren’t notified of, only to be surprised later when, in a frenzy of mail opening, sorting and shredding, I find the legally required noticed we received weeks (or even months) before.
Because he works from home, he’s also the person who brings in the mail but he doesn’t like to put it in the same place. So my mail, things that are actually addressed to me or to my business, can end up in one of a multitude of places (kitchen counter, front bureau, his car, his office, our bedroom, his pants) making finding my mail feel a little like a scene from Raiders of the Lost Ark.
As I said, I don’t understand his issues with mail. And despite my efforts to give him a place to put my mail, and my obvious panic attacks when I see the pile of mail dating back two weeks, he doesn’t seem all that interested in making a change.
So, rather than stew, I thought I’d embrace this moment of “misery loves company” and ask . . . what marital pet peeve tops your list?
Pictured above: Where we are “supposed” to keep our mail when it comes in.