Missing the habits

Does your partner do something that drives you insane?

By partner, I mean wife, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend, goat or inflatable doll [I’m broad minded].

Do they whistle tunelessly through their teeth?

Do they pick their nose and then flick the bogie so it sticks to the middle of the television screen?

Do they decorate your bathroom with their underwear so you can’t even reach the bath, let alone the shower?

Do they slurp their soup?

Do they insist on talking about nothing all the way through that programme you have been waiting to watch, while you have to sit in stony silence through all their crap programmes?

Do they insist on leaving their muddy wellingtons in the middle of the doorway so you keep tripping over them?

Anyone who has ever lived with anyone else will know what I mean.  What starts off a an endearing little habit, over the years become something so fucking irritating that you find yourself doing an interweb search – “murder extenuating circumstances”.  That amusing little foible has reached epic proportions of irritability that you really and truly worry about your own sanity.

But  just stop for a moment and think.

If you find yourself once more on your own?

The silence is so profound you ache for that tuneless whistle.

You miss that little blob on the middle of the television screen as the programmes don’t look right without it.

You throw your own underwear around the bathroom as a bare bathroom somehow just looks wrong.

You will wish for that melodic sound of slurping soup.

You stop watching those programmes because they are no fun on their own and anyway you miss the running commentary about Whatshisname the actor who is married to Yer Wan who used to be in some soap opera or other and what the hell was her name anyway?

You keep falling through the kitchen door because you have braced yourself for the wellingtons, but they are not there any more.

The time may come when you would give your right arm, your eye teeth and in fact all your limbs just to have those irritations back.  Because lack of irritation reminds you of a lack of partner.

There is a lot worse than an irritating habit.

Such as silence.

It's only fair to share...Share on FacebookShare on Google+Tweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedInPin on PinterestShare on RedditShare on StumbleUponShare on Tumblr

Comments

Missing the habits — 16 Comments

  1. Mrs Bucko answers every question with a question of her own.

    I've taken to staring stoney faced and silent at her until she twigs and answers the original question.

  2. How true. Herself here has been over in london for 6 weeks now – originally went for 2-3 but job extended. I started out doing a massive clear up as of course all the mess was hers, and I'm Mr Perfect, but you should see the state of the place now! The spiders rule the roost, the fridge and freezer are wondering if they have a job anymore, and I can't see the sink for tuppence! The radio is on full blast and i've come to realise just how annoying 'Joe' is! On the plus side, the local bar owners are making a few extra bob out of me 🙂

    Two tips GD – Eat well everyday, and get out and about (keep that head sane).

    Hope herself makes a quick and full recovery.

    • I have a grand excuse for the mess – I'm too busy driving to and from the hospital.

      It's taken you this long to realise that Joe is a pain in the hole [and the ears]?  I haven't been able to listen to him for years.  I value what's left of my sanity.

  3. right, as much as i want to murder the hub lately, you've made a good point and managed to make me worry for you now. hope missus is back home soon to irritate the bejebus out of you

    • Things were on a bit of a knife edge for the first couple of days, and I seriously had to accept that life might be different.  There is nothing like the prospect of permanent isolation to make you appreciate non-isolation, if you know what I mean.

  4. Had that a couple of weeks ago when Mrs A was in hospital for a week. I kept on seeing her car parked outside when I walked past the front door and thinking she was back. So, I sent the car down to the local bodyshop to remove the damage that had mysteriously appeared. Hell to pay when she came out a few days early and found the car missing….

    • Maybe you should have sent the car to hospital and Mrs A to the bodyshop?  Not a bad idea, come to think of it – in future I'll refer Herself to Spanner for repairs…….

  5. many moons ago the good lady had to visist christies to have some radioactive juice…she was scheduled for  fourteen day stay which apparently how long it takes for the glow to go away…I missed having her around as did the nippers…she was only there a week.(hot tip for radioactive juice drinkers shower five or six times a day and drink as much water as you possibly can without bloating…

    the daft sods told her to stay away from the nippers for another week so we had the mad daily ritual of sitting outside her mothers so she could talk to the kids through the glass of the car windows…that was worse than the Christies week…

    • Surely the best thing for radioactive juice drinkers is to bung them into the central heating boiler?  All that lovely power going to waste?  I wonder what the half-life of a radioactive Missus is…?

  6. Good description of widowhood, even after nearly eight years I still think I must tell Ian that when I hear something of interest. I guess it never ends.

      • …as the farmer said as he picked his nadgers off the ground after he got too close to a running combine harvester.

        Laurie and I send our best, as always. Tell Herself we said hi and to get home soon because you've been feeding dog food to the stove and putting Penny in the fridge.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *