Independence backfires….

I’m not sure about you, but I’ve always been one to want to do things for myself. Being told I can’t do something only makes me want to do it more. I’ve always had the mentality that I don’t need anyone’s help, that I can just do everything on my own.

For the most part this has worked for me. I’ve fixed my own computer virus, changed a fan belt in my car, built and moved furniture, and paid my own bills always. I loved being independent knowing I could make it on my own and needed no one.

T & I started dating and he travelled a lot so I still had my independence, we moved in together and because I was used to taking care of everything I took care of everything. I remember the first night I handed him a plate of steaks to bbq he had to YouTube how to do it properly – which drove me insane clearly. What man doesn’t know how to bbq? Or clean toilets? Or fold clothes properly?

That’s right – one who dated and then married me.

After purchasing the house I continued on my insanely organized path keeping everything on the straight and narrow and have really only delegated cutting the grass and taking out the big (not gathering the little) garbage, setting the dinner table (if he’s home) and unloading the dishwasher occasionally. That’s it.

I hate to say I crashed & burned, but I kinda did. I got fed up with me clearing clutter and cleaning non-stop and him doing close to zero and started to make a fuss about it. I flat out said “I could use some help”. I swear it fell on deaf ears. So I started boycotting things. If T’s laundry didn’t make it into the basket I didn’t clean them. If his dishes didn’t make it into the dishwasher I didn’t load them -as much as this drove me batshit crazy. He has only partially clued into this scheme and does his own laundry when he runs out of clean underwear.

However, he agreed on having a cleaning service in once a month – which helps me out, and in turn gets me off his case. So you would think with that lessening the workload it would make the other tasks become much more manageable?

Only slightly. Asking him to go to the grocery store last night to help me because I have a sore back was like the world was coming to an end. He did offer to go and do it all by his lonesome, but I knew he doesn’t know enough about brands etc. to know what we usually get or where to find it. Explaining this to him was like talking to a tree and by the end of the entire ordeal I was threatening to pack a pair of cement shoes for him for our trip to the lake this weekend.

So women, those of you in your early twenties who think “I can do it all, be all, and don’t need anyone”. That is perfectly true, but as life throws more at you, you are going to want to delegate some stuff and a man that’s never had to do anything will show great resistance. So even if you don’t want the help ask for it early and get them into a schedule, it will pay off in the long run.

Just one of those "If I knew then what I know now moments".....

The art of commuting

Tailgating, invisible blinkers, inconsistent speed, road construction, ever changing weather, and pretty much anything else in the book can be thrown at you if you commute.
I have the joy (and I say joy because I love a good highway commute) of commuting to and from work exactly 26minutes each way. I experience no road rage unless of course a transport decides he (and I say he because 99% of transport truck drivers are guys) absolutely needs to pass the transport in front of them (when they are governed anyway) and passes at a snail’s pace backing up traffic who will all follow insanely too close to each other eager to be able to step on the gas the moment that truck clears.

The trick to a good commute is a good on gas, peppy, heavy vehicle that can handle all weather situations. By all means don’t go get yourself a ‘smart car’ and put good tires on it. One windy day and the back tail wind off a transport is going to put your ass in the ditch. Also you know that really gross greeny-yellowish bug that commits suicide on your windshield on summer nights? That is what could be you on the front or back of a transport when the roads are icy. I drive a Volkswagen Jetta and let me tell you the thing is a tank. It’s so heavy wind doesn’t move it and tail wind doesn’t exist.

<- that could be you!

The next thing you need is RAIN-X. I cannot tell you enough about the joys of rain-x. You’re driving down the highway and BAM the sky opens and you’re hit with a torrential downpour and you’re freaking out trying to close windows or the sunroof etc, but in the mix of things you don’t even need to think about turning on your wipers. The rain will just bead and fly off. All the other cars will slow, some even put on their 4-ways, but you can maintain your speed and not use your wipers even once. Just keep up with the rain-x maintenance because you don’t want to be caught without it. I make sure it is reapplied with every oil change.

If you wear a low cut top or a skirt that reveals ANY leg be prepared for dirty truck drivers to radio ahead and you to be starred at as you fly by and the glances are so disgusting you want to shower the minute you walk in the door – ugh.

Also have a great radio station or selection of music you enjoy. Crank it up and sing until you lose your voice, it’s therapeutic. And, if someone in another car sees you – who cares? You are likely to never see them again.

If your commute involves city driving I feel bad for you. As that is where my road rage is unleashed. Don’t get me wrong, I love being down town I just wish it wasn’t so stressful and expensive (parking) to get in and out. For what you are going to pay to park in a decent lot I would prefer to hop on a decent transit (street car or subway) if possible.

The first cause for stress downtown is the people who refuse to signal. Like I am supposed to psychically guess where it is they are going and either yield to them cutting me off or slow down for the turn I didn’t know they were going to make. I secretly wish for someone other than myself to rear end them to teach them a lesson.

The second cause for road rage is the city bus drivers. Just because they are big they figure they can do whatever they want. They NEVER signal and just throw themselves back into traffic – then they spot some moron who missed the stop running beside the bus and decide that it’s a good idea to come to a dead stop to let them on and then hold up traffic even longer to make sure the idiot they let on the bus has the fare! However, in the city I work in drivers have been busted texting while driving amongst other things are ticked so I’m sure they do whatever they want to purposely piss us off more!

Also how about those idiots on major roads who decide they need to go left where there is no left turning lane and back up traffic when they could go an additional block to a light or turning lane and back track a bit and cause all the other ticked of people behind them to try to get over into another lane causing a slowdown/back up in both lanes. I hate those people.

Wow. I have rage just thinking about the rage and I’m staying in the city after work – wish me luck & Happy Commuting!

Language of love?!

Hello there. Long time no talk. It’s all the post turning 30 relaxing like old people I’ve been doing… I wish!

Ever heard of ‘couple speak’ or I guess maybe a couple’s ‘language of love’?! T & I over the last almost 6 years have perfected communication on all of the somewhat minor things, of course there are still duelling battles over major aspects of communication.

For instance I have communicated to T that underwear/clothing/towels etc on the bedroom floor do not put me at ease, nor make me relax, which is the point of the bedroom. So when I see that T has left items on the floor I feel that he is communicating with me that he does not want a relaxed wife. End result - he pulls back the covers at the end of the day to find his dirty clothes piled on his side of the bed and underwear on his pillow (I’m nice like that). I’ve also communicated a new rule (new rules are created in my house daily mostly by T) that if clothing is not in the hamper it is not washed. I haven’t washed T’s clothes this year, and you can’t see the floor in his closet. I solve that eye sore by closing the door.

I’m not so much a clean freak as Bree Van de Kamp on Desperate Housewives, but I have my days.

Now, the minor parts of communication T & I have down pat.

We’ll be out somewhere and he’ll start walking funny, one glance from me and he’ll say “IBS”. I know what you’re thinking - irritable bowel syndrome. Luckily neither of us suffers from that. What he’s telling me is “Itchy bum syndrome”. Until he can get somewhere to politely itch he walks like he’s bee probed. So to stave off embarrassment I’ll drop what I’m doing and search out a less public place.

For me, my stomach can turn at any time anywhere for no reason at all. I don’t have a clue what triggers it, but it’s not a good time. May be a sign of old age I guess, but definitely not a cool one. The stomach will flip, I’ll get super-hot and go pale and T will look at me and I’ll say “P or P” and he knows to help out immediately. P or P means poop or puke. One of the two or both inevitably has to happen VERY soon. He also knows how much I dislike public washrooms so he’ll take crazy driving measures if he has to (usually he drives like a REALLY old man) to get me home.

Anyone else have any weird ‘languages of love’ or are T & I just odd. It’s ok if we are; life is more interesting that way.