My Funny Honey

Newlywed life has been a great joy to Jeffrey and me. It's been fun to learn each other's pet peeves, idiosyncrasies, strengths, talents, and most hated chores (Dusting for me, Mopping for Jeffrey). Through all the fun, though, sometimes we both get frustrated with each other, (just like any roommate would) because sometimes I don't do things that Jeffrey wants me to do, and sometimes Jeffrey doesn't do things that I want him to do.

One such offense Jeffrey has repeatedly committed is to "put things up" on my side of the bathroom counter. Example: Jeffrey got out some Zilactin from our medicine cabinet to put on his ulcer, then "put it up" by throwing it on my side of the counter. Same story with the dirty hand towels, the toothpaste tube, and and other little knick-knacks. After several of these little annoyances, I finally called Jeffrey out on it.

Me: "Jeffrey, can you come into the bathroom? I've got a bone to pick with you."
Jeffrey: "I'm sorry."
Me: "Jeffrey, you don't even know what I'm going to say."
Jeffrey: "I know, but whatever it is, I'm sorry."
Me: "Look, Honey, I just want you to put things up when you use them...back where they go--not on my side of the counter."
Jeffrey: "I'm sorry."

After that little lover's spat, we hugged, told each other that we love each other, and said 3 things that we like about the other one. NOT! (Who does that?) We did get over it, though, and went in the kitchen to cook dinner. A little while later I went into the bathroom to, um, powder my nose and this is what I saw:


My side


Jeffrey’s side

It appears someone had used his latent anger over our conversation to rearrange our bathroom counter…if only these powers could be harnessed for good!

Another issue we had last week was over spilt milk—honestly. Jeffrey told me in the morning as we were already halfway to school: “Oh yeah, the milk jug we bought yesterday has a crack in it.” I asked if he had taken care of it, and he said, “Well, I was going to ask you what to do about it, but I forgot.”

After explaining to Jeffrey that he doesn’t really need to ask me if it’s ok to clean up a mess, Jeffrey told me that he would have cleaned it up himself, but he wasn’t sure what to put the milk into. “All I could think of were those big bowls (Longaberger mixing bowls),” he said. At this point, I was certain that we would be the only apartment dweller’s in renting history to be kicked out due to “milk damage.” With this thought in mind, I asked Jeffrey to take care of the problem before I got home since he was to get out of class before me that day. He asked me what to put the milk in, and I told him I didn’t care. This is what he chose:



Jeffrey put the milk into 1 pitcher, 1 large glass, 1 small glass, and 1 tall pasta tupperware container. I changed my mind…I do care what he puts the milk in! Haha….my funny honey. I love that little goober.