How I Annoy My Husband: My Bad Parking and Unparking.

          I drive my own slightly dented car carefully to my various volunteer jobs and appointments on weekdays.  But on weekends, Paul drives his newer car as we tool around town or on trips.  I drive badly. That’s why.  I don’t get into accidents, luckily, but I often hit things with my car.  Unfortunately some of the things I have hit are other cars, including Paul’s old car and my daughter Kat’s car.  Paul and Kat were not happy, as you can imagine. 

          I gave poor Charlotte, my old blue Honda Civic, her first dent near the front headlight while I was pulling out of a parking space at the Celestial Seasoning Tea factory in Boulder, Colorado.  Kat and I had just taken a tour replete with silly hair nets, and were ready to go back to our hotel.  I pulled out too tight and my car’s front bumper got wedged in the back bumper of a massive pick-up truck. I heard the loud scraping of metal against metal and my heart skipped a beat. When I got out of the car I saw the bumpers stuck tight.

          The owner of the pick-up came out of the factory just as it happened and I began sweating profusely when I saw the size of the guy.  He was half the size of my Civic and barreling towards me. He wore a hairnet, so I assumed he had either just been on a tour himself or was one of the Celestial staff.  But the feminine touch did not diminish the sheer force of his size.

“I’m so sorry!  They’re stuck,” I said while making a sympathetic face.

          Hairnet man glared at me while his mouth tightened. He assessed the situation while Kat slouched down in her passenger seat trying to be invisible.

          “I think I can pull out. Let me try again,” I said and got back into my car.

Thankfully the cars became unstuck after another squeal of metal. 

I got out again and checked both cars.  Only mine had some damage and his pickup was fine, thank goodness.

          “Ok” he said.  A man of few words

          I dented Charlotte’s rear bumper when I backed into a tree while parking at a campsite in Ouray, Colorado.  Kat and I had spent a fun few weeks at two Colorado KOAs that summer. The tree was fine, I’m relieved to say.  I could never live with myself if I knocked down a living creature.

          Then there was the time I scratched the side of my newer car, Lena Blue, while making a long scratch on Charlotte.  I had given Charlotte to Kat for her graduation. My old car sat peacefully in the driveway and as I backed Lena out of the garage, I came too close to the other vehicle.  The loud noise brought Kat to the scene of the crime. 

          “Mom, what did you do?”

          “Oh no, I’m sorry!”

          I gave Paul’s car a long scratch as I pulled out of our current house.  It wasn’t entirely my fault.  Our handyman was working in the garage using a large loud machine to cut tiles.  He was installing our new floor.  A thick orange electrical cord stretched between his tool and the garage outlet under my car. The cord sat flat on the floor.

          “Can I drive over it, Leonardo?”

          “Jes, you will be fine,” he said with his melodic Venezuelan accent.

 I pulled out of the garage, staring at the outlet so my car didn’t yank out the cord as I drove over it.  I overcorrected to the right.

          Screech.  There was that horrible sound again as my car made a long thin scratch on the side of Paul’s older car, Drg.

          “Oh no!” Leonardo said.

I knew I had to do the responsible thing so I said, “Let’s not tell him, maybe he won’t notice.”  Leonardo grinned.  I was on my way to an appointment so I left.  Unfortunately, Leonardo told Paul soon after.  I shall never forgive that usually charming man.

          My car lost some paint on the metal surrounding the right rear tire.  We checked into the cost of body work on both cars, but it would have been about $1,000, so we forgot about it.  At least I did. 

Flat Tires

          I have often come too close to curbs while pulling into or out of parking spaces.  I hate that familiar bang while feeling the car raise several inches off the ground. I’m filled with dread as I get out and check the tire.  I did this in our local public library lot and sure enough the tire was flat as a pancake. 

          I called Paul. “Can you come help me?  My tire is flat!”

          “What did you do?” he said before rushing out of the house to change the tire.  

        Since Paul now owns a 2017 Subaru Forester, named Forest, we decided it’d be safer for him to drive more often to avoid my mishaps.

How I Annoy My Husband: Introduction

 

How I Annoy My Husband

            I’m not purposely trying to annoy my husband, at least not most of the time. I’m a happily married woman who has been with Paul for seven years, married almost four. I like to think I have a good sense of humor (although others don’t always agree), so I enjoy telling jokes and teasing my husband.  This includes annoying him. My goal is to only slightly irritate Paul, not to the point where he’s contemplating divorce.  After all, I do love the guy.

Unrelated and Annoying Comments During Sporting Events.

            My husband loves sports.  I don’t.   One of the ways I annoy him is by using incorrect terminology while he’s watching a game on TV.  Here is an actual conversation we had a few weeks ago.

            I walked into the living room where Paul was sprawled across the couch watching football. He was wearing worn blue sweat pants and a black tee shirt with the words, “Lebowsky 2020. This aggression will not stand.” on the front. A hand supported his head of disheveled hair.  The scent of green chile lingered in the air from what I assumed was a snack of cheese burrito smothered with the stuff. On the rug, his empty plate sat nearby a plastic tumbler filled halfway with water. Paul glanced at the cup every few seconds. Our cat Rufus had been slowly edging closer to the water with the aim of sticking a furry paw in it and Paul was ready to say “quit it” in a stern voice.

            Paul might have been watching the Super Bowl, but I doubted it because he hadn’t called me in to see the entertaining commercials or the halftime show. The crowd alternately cheered and booed. Large men ran in what appeared to be random directions. Hands on hips, I stood several feet away from the couch for several seconds.

 “What are you doing?”  I asked.

            “Knitting,” he answered while staring intently at the set. 

            “Ha, ha,” I said with a deadpan voice.

 I watched for several more minutes.  When I looked at Paul, I saw him glance at me to figure out what I was up to.

            “I like the purple outfits, so I hope they win.” I told him.

            Paul rolled his eyes and said, “They’re called uniforms.”

            “How many runs did they each get?”

            “They get points in football.  Don’t you have something to do?”

            Mission Accomplished!

            During a baseball game, I asked, “Who has the most balls?”

            “They’re called runs” he said.

            “I’m voting for the blue team. I like their outfits.”

“We say rooting not voting.”  He didn’t bother to correct “outfits.” He knew what I was up to.

            During a basketball game I once said the following:

“I don’t understand why Steph keeps pushing that guard out of his mouth. It’s kinda gross.  Why doesn't his wife or mother talk to him about it? “

            “Maybe they don’t care,” Paul said.

“Well, it’s not sanitary.  What if he drops it?  And look how funny he looks with the towel on his head!”

            Paul sighed loudly.

            Mission accomplished!

How I Annoy My Husband by Leaving the Lights on and more.

            I am a busy woman and a bit distractible.  I often work on accomplishing several goals at the same time-- a true multi-tasker.  I might start brushing my teeth at the bathroom sink and remember I want some  herbal tea.  I see no problem in walking to the kitchen with a toothbrush in my mouth, foam dripping down my chin and a white spot of toothpaste on my shirt. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when I thought about the tea.  I’m sure it happens to everyone.

            Paul’s only problem with this scenario is that I left the bathroom light on when I walked out of the room.  He’ll say something like, “Oh, I’ll turn that light off for you.”  Or “I’ll turn that light off for you, young lady” depending on his mood.

            Sometimes I notice him looking towards the bedroom closet after I’ve closed it.  “I was just going to turn off that light,” I say apologetically.

            I leave lights on a lot, but it’s not on purpose.  Paul often seems to follow me around the house turning off lights.  I guess he logs a lot of steps that way.    Another scenario related to light is our preference for it. I like rooms well-lit and Paul likes them dim or completely dark.  I think he’s part cat and can still see in the dark.  My night vision is so bad I often walk into things like walls or chairs when it’s not bright in a room.  It’s not a pretty sight, but only Paul can see it. 

            Bump. Crash. “Ouch! I can’t see!” I shout and turn on the light.

            “Ugh, it’s too bright!” He complains while wincing.

            I also annoy my Paul by leaving the refrigerator open.  This is related to my multi-tasking. It often happens this way:

            I’m still half asleep as I make my breakfast.  The smell of brewing coffee fills the air. I’m wearing flannel leopard print pajamas (or the flannel pink spotted ones) and standing near the kitchen counter. I’ve put a mug of water in the microwave, Fiber One cereal in a bowl, and an orange on my plate. I need the milk so I open the refrigerator, get the milk, pour it on my cereal and leave the container on the counter.

     When the microwave dings, I get a tea bag from the cabinet, take the water out of the microwave, and drop the tea bag in my mug.  As I cut up my naval orange, I notice a chill on my back, but I figure it’s just a draft.  Paul walks into the kitchen and says, “I’ll close the refrigerator for you” or “I’ll close the refrigerator for you, young lady,” depending on his mood.