Time for another Manly Monday, a la Stupid Stork!
Let me preface this post with the fact that I love almost everything about my husband. Almost.
But of course, there are a few irritating quirks that I am forced to put up with. Like, for example, the external temperature of his toes (below freezing, probably?) and his unnerving habit of wiggling them all over my body all the time. Wear socks for once in your life, Champ, how bout it? Or his tendency to brace himself like he's going to die every time I'm driving us around. Or his grumpiness every morning before 10 am (luckily I leave before him during the week).
These quirks are just that: quirks. By and large, we live a very peaceful existence together. The nag or nitpick is a rare occasion. We don't really fight. I don't even remember the last time we yelled at each other in a serious way (aside from "STOP POKING ME!" or something like that). But there is one thing in our lives that causes more tension between us than anything else.
Not sex. Not money. Not even infertility.
It's this adorable face right here:
When I look at this face, I see a sweet, cuddly furball of love, while Champ sees a living, breathing bundle of poopy annoyance. Champ really hates our cat. I thought for a while he was just putting up a stink about sharing our home with an animal. I just knew that he would come to love this little guy. Who wouldn't? Henry is practically a dog in a cat's body. He follows me around, he comes when I calls, he's playful and purry and perfect. And seriously! That face! I mean, come on!
But Champ has not been won over. He's just not an animal person. He's especially not a cat person. Especially our cat. So we've been known to get into an argument or two about how the cat should be treated.
Champ: The cat's not allowed on the furniture or the bed or the kitchen counters.
Me: I'm with you on the kitchen counters, but these new couches we got don't collect fur at all! And he's so snuggly in bed.
Champ: The cat's being annoying. I'm going to lock him the garage all night even though it's barely above freezing and he sleeps in the basement anyway.
Me: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO! SAVE HIM!
So yeah. It's a point of contention. Next week (er, the week after... next week I'll be on the beach) I'll have to tell ya'll something else good about Champ. I'm not making him out to be the best husband on the planet (as he is, truly! I love this guy more than anything!) with my stories of his cat hating and weird toes and drunken debauchery. Oops. :)