Marriage 101: The Science Of Keeping The Marriage Sweet

My wife and I are outhouse preppers. No, we will not survive TEOTWAWKI… but we could hold our own for a good month or two, maybe a little less if we have take in friends or the family elders. We’re packrats by nature, we save and live within our means and we do what we can do to hedge bets against temporary emergencies and such. The problem is my basement Reclusium now looks like a friggin BOMB went off down there! The preps are stashed willy-knilly on the shelves, and working with them is now like playing a hybrid game of Tetris and Jenga!

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I really should chimpout out in rage, go down there and clean it all up…but then the wife gets mad because I put stuff away differently than she does. The real reason I don’t though - aside from being lazy - is that for her… it works. She knows where everything is, she can find anything in that mess in seconds, and she likes it. I can’t find anything in that mountain of plunder even if it’s under my nose. To keep the peace I shut my hole and let her deal with it - which she usually does.

Until she doesn’t. I’m not complaining; the wife is still a working woman, she’s a big wheel at the li’l chapel out in the country and she’s up to her ears in their social functions, chasing after the kids and elderly alike. She’s got far better things to do than worry about me and my petty house-husband issues. Usually I can deal with it.

But a couple days back I ran out of coffee! I asked her to bring up another can of the good stuff - and it went in one ear and out the other. Now - pay attention men, because this WILL come up in y.our life too if yer not careful. I could nag, whine and bitch about it and cause grief with this important issue - or I could use my head. 

I’m gonna send her a text, politely asking her again. But this time… I will apply my mastery of the female psyche! They will put the whip on their own butts to get things done - with some minor encouragement from the sly and savvy husband.

I’m out of the stuff in the red can.

Casually propped on top is the scented, boutique crap

she prefers - I think it’s coffee infused with hazelnuts?

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If she forgets the text, she WILL see that I have been forced to dip into HER personal stash! Nobody wants to waste expensive coffee on a slob that drinks whatever’s in the jerry can… so now the whip is on HER backside to rectumfy the situation! You can bet I’ll have a fresh can of coffee ready to rip tomorrow morn! HAR HAR HAR!!! No nagging, no bitching, no spats! Just the deft application of weapons grade clinical gender based psychology. 

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Keeping marriage sweet sometimes requires the application of inside baseball, administrative violence and subtle power plays and manipulation. But - the usual weasel words apply. If this goes badly and I disappear - somebody have JL check the dumpster out behind the grocery store for my corpse. There’s an inherent risk in anything that pertains to the womenfolk and it pays to be mindful.

Cheers!

Filthie