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If there’s an award for the world’s most patient wife…

29 Comments

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I should win it.

Hands down.

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Because I’ve been looking at this mess for…. count them…. 37 frickin’ days.

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This giant load of useless crap was belched from my husband’s closet in the den on December 8th when he needed to climb up in the attic.

I didn’t bitch, it was a necessity.

And since he had the next 30 days off work because he didn’t take any vacation in 2020, I figured he would deal with it at his leisure.

I was wrong. So very wrong.

I didn’t bitch a week later when it was still there.

But two weeks later? I was bitching silently in my head.

Three weeks later? I was bitching in my sleep.

Four weeks later? I was bitching opening while plotting his slow, but quite painful demise.

It’s only today, 37 frickin’ days later, the day before he goes back to work….

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That he decided to deal with it. Of course it’s not a matter of simply putting things back in the closet. No. That would be too simple. Instead, each and every item must be fully examined and then brought to me for the desired but never realized “Gee, that’s swell. I wish you had 6 more just like it!” response.

Then he leaves the item in front of me with hopes that I’ll look it up and find it’s worth thousands of dollars.

FYI? The Moosehead beer mirror my husband knew was a vintage bar collectible?

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Turned out to be a carnival prize worth $10.

As I type he’s knee deep in a stack of tattered Look magazines from the 60’s.

This clean up may take a while.

Another 37 days is not out of the realm of possibility.

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*Update – 5 hours later? The room is still littered with crap and there’s a ladder in the hallway.

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Good times.

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29 thoughts on “If there’s an award for the world’s most patient wife…”

      1. Unfortunately I didn’t read my comment before posting. I meant I’m sure YOU’RE tired of me reminding you….etc., etc.

        My dad used to think someone would pay money for all his junk, too.

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  3. Thou breath deep, margarita in hand, and go out to the man cave while he’s in the house. After a couple of adult beverages you might feel a bit better. Go sit behind the bar in “his” space, and maybe take some of your “stuff” and plant it over yonder….you know, for effect. lol

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  6. River,
    I feel your pain. Last May, David decided he’d do some paperwork on the kitchen table. He loaded the table down with paperwork. We couldn’t eat there. We couldn’t do anything there. By mid December, I told him either he got it off the table or I would. He got it off the table and back into his office. Has he looked at any of that paperwork? I haven’t a clue…but as long as I don’t have to look at it and none of our utilities get turned off, I don’t really care! Ugh! Now I feel all twitchy just thinking about it. Mona

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  12. Yes, you may have patience, but sorry to disappoint you, but unlikely you would even make it to the second round of voting. The spouse/parent of a late stage metastatic cancer patient has patience that even God could not bestow an individual.

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      1. Sorry if that came off as mean…I am scheduled for another tumor removing surgery tomorrow, and Cupcake has been so supportive even though she has her own worries bouncing around in her head.

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