I rode with Bob to the train station so that I could have the car today to run errands. Bob likes to take the super early train, so the stars were still out. When we got to the train station, I think Bob noted in a flash that the parking lot was not as full, so he could park much closer than his usual spot. But, I squawked, "where are you going??" and "I am not about to sit in a parking lot all day." (insulted that he had forgotten me...) And then when we pulled in front of the station, I was wondering if his train was next. No matter how I asked the question, I knew I'd be wrong. If I'd said it was raining, he would have said, "no, its spitting." If I'd have asked if his was the next train, he'd of said, "no, the westbound train has not come by yet." So, I asked if we were waiting for his train, and he answered, "of course, why else would we be here." So, I asked, "are these people the ones you ride with?" And he answered, "some are, some aren't." So, I gave up and asked how to ask if his was the next train?? And we both laughed, and he said to blog about it. But, he beat me to it.
Living with Mr. Perfect, Mr. Precise, Mr. Always Right who sometimes consedes, "you may be right." May. Once in a blue moon. And I think this is a very painful concession for him.
Living with Bob, at first I thought it was a math preciseness, or an engineer thing. Then James came along and it was like living in stereo. I could ask them both the same question in different rooms and get the same answer predicated with, "of course..." As if it was so obvious to them, that it could not be any other way. Now I know they just can't help it. And no matter how I ask or what I say, I will be corrected. Herded back upon the best or better path. Armed with this knowledge, I pause and try to ask my questions directly, precisely. Sometimes I just ask, knowing I will be corrected no matter what. Sometimes, I ask the wrong question just to be difficult. That or go mad. If I thought they were doing it to be mean or irritating on purpose, I would be assigning them meanness I don't think they have. But, neither are they clueless. I think they see this in the BIG BANG THEORY TV show, and that is why they enjoy it so much. I don't think they mean to be condescending but, sometimes the sarcasm just slips out. Creatures of habit. Direct. Direct in their paths.
And these kind of people revel in computer programming, and doing things that would make the rest of us cross our eyes and drop from the tedium. Their jobs and interests are not boring, but can help induce sleep with their rabbit trails and terminology. They do better with lots of warning instead of springing a spur of the moment spontaneous change of route just to look at the lights on a particular house. Sometimes they will wax on and on about a subject and you find yourself scratching your head about how they can be experts on painting said Christmas lights, and you wonder are they just testing you? Is this a challenge? Do I need to go home and google about how Christmas lights are made? Are they trying to wow me with their vast knowledge? To challenge their statements with "are you pulling my leg?" would be tantamount to accusing them of lying. And lying is so agregous, so vile, so cruel, you might as well pull out a gun and shoot them first.
It is fun to ask them what they are thinking about. With James, it seems pretty random. And with Bob, he is busy with a computer programming puzzlement, or planting something on farmville on facebook. Blog fodder there.
Going back is hard for them. Getting there is the challenge. Staying the course. Waiting for them to need a bathroom break is bladder burstingly dangerous. Leaving early throws them off, too. They don't like to leave early nor arrive early. That might force them to visit, talk, or heaven forbid, wait. Being early is bad, yet having this extra time to drive through McDonalds for a sausage biscuit, a dangerous variable. Not to be risked. Nor fathomed. Even if I mentioned it the night before, with the statement, "I'd like to drive through McDonalds on our way to Sunday School" he will not remember, and unless you do, it won't happen.
When we were first married, I thought it pagan that he wrote things on his hand. Now I know why he did it. I should have let him continue. I should not have been such a bitch. I should have been more accepting. I killed the card writing in him, and the gift buying, too.
Amber mentioned that James leaves cupboard doors open. I am sure he did it here at home, too, but I probably chalked it up to leaving me a clue or a path to whatall he needed. Surely, James means to close the cupboards, but gets distracted and is on to other tasks and does not look back, but ever forward. Bob is so good about putting dishes away from the dishwasher as he waits for coffee to brew, that he does not disarm the dishwasher. It is stupid that Bosch has this feature that shows a zero for being done, but won't change from this setting until you punch it. twice. Our way of stopping the guessing game of are these dishes clean or dirty is by using the soap dispenser. Whoever fills the dishwasher half-way puts in a cube of soap in the dispenser to signal it has not been run. I just peek inside and get a pleasant suprise when I see the zero, as it is often empty. To rant and rave at Bob about not punching the front would drive him to not want to put the dishes away ever again. Why shoot myself in the foot? Instead, I just get over the fact that the the front indicator lies. Open the door and get a suprise. It is either empty or it needs turned on. Big deal.
All this to say, getting along is a life-long challenge. I think we trade bad habits, and hopefully, good habits. I don't think there is a school or premarital counseling that will get you ready or used to getting along. There are just some things we each do that irritate the crap out of the other. And that is okay. Life is messy, and fun, and if you can handle much of it with laughter, so much the better. Choose Laughter. That helps me choose life.