WHEN THE POT CALLS THE KETTLE BLACK

My husband annoys me frequently. After so many years of marriage, one would think that one could just “roll with the punches.” Not so. Not only does he still have the same irritating habits, but he has developed new ones.

For instance: How aggravating are those people who drum their fingers on the table? Very aggravating? I understand. My spouse “clicks.” He has somehow figured out how to make the “drumming on the table” noise without the table! I would commend him for his ingenuity, if only I could stop myself from wanting to choke him when he does this.

Husbands tell the same joke over and over. I sympathize. But does your husband ask every server who brings him an entrée if he or she is “the chef?” No? How fortunate for you! I am sure, also, that your husband has asked for a “box,” when his plate is empty. For some reason, the fact that servers all over the world have heard that line millions of times doesn’t seem to stop my husband—and probably not yours.

Does your spouse like to pigeon-hole? Mine has divided the world into two categories: himself and “you people.” And believe me, those of us in the second category are frequently the target of his scorn. “We people” apparently do silly things like forgetting our wallets at the grocery, causing emergency phone calls. “We people” also forget our dental appointments and sometimes our husband’s birthday, because “we people” need to start using the calendar function on our iPhones.

And, as far as he’s concerned, all leg jigglers should be on medication. The fact that I can’t seem to stop my leg causes him all kinds of angst—in the car, at the movies, and in fine dining establishments, where I don’t inquire if the servers do any cooking, but I have been known to upset the water goblets while jiggling. Oh, and another thing: “we people” need way too much sleep.

Back to himself. He refers to himself sartorially as a “classic.” I call it “looking as if you get all your clothes at the Goodwill.” He has worn the same macramé belt for forty years. It’s back in style. “We people” just aren’t keeping up. Flannel shirts and corduroy. Isn’t Mr. Rogers dead?

So it’s a toss-up as to which one of us wins the prize for maddening idiosyncrasies. There is a tipping point, however. I think “we people” can all agree on this. Anyone who reads MAPS recreationally is completely irritating. I rest my case.

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