The Problem with Me

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It was my wife and two of her friends. I wasn’t supposed to be in the kitchen. I couldn’t see them, but I could hear them loud and clear. They were gossiping about us husbands, which- I’m sure you’ll agree- is very unfair. We are hardworking, good-hearted souls who’d never even hurt a fly.

“We sleep apart”, Melissa confessed. “It’s not like we don’t love each other or don’t wanna be together. It’s just…” She paused. I could imagine her frowning while searching for words.

“It’s just that Frank snores. Like a Lister engine. One that needs oil urgently or it might break apart. And then there are these huge silences, and I lie there wondering if the Lister indeed fell apart. When it jumps back to life, he becomes a Rolux in thick grass. I now live in the spare room”.

I waited patient for the ensuing stream of oohs and aahs and “shame, poor thing” to pass. It crossed my mind that I should rather be washing the car, but I stayed.

It was Beck’s turn.

“Lids were made to be put back on. When Justin prepares a toastie, it’s like a hurricane that hit the kitchen. No matter how many times I have asked in the past, he won’t pit the lids back on. The margarine lid, the jam bottle lid, the coffee tin lid. It’s driving me nuts. The milk bottle, the cookie jar, the shaving cream, the toothpaste, the toilet. He never puts any back on.”

The regular stream of comments again. Then Wifey grabbed the mike.

I took a deep breath.

“See that wall clock?” She must have been pointing at the big clock that I hanged onto the wall some six weeks back. I struggled a bit when I initially drilled into an embedded steel pillar. “It took him four hours to hang that. Four hours.”

Silence. No ensuing comments. That will teach you a lesson, Honey.

Finally Melissa cleared her throat. “Uhhhm… wow. That IS dedication, ain’t it?” Take that, Sports Lover.

Wifey again: “That’s not the point, Mel. He struggled with that damn thing on his own, the entire four hours. He never asks anyone for any help. On Friday he got lost and drove around for an hour before eventually finding the place he was looking for. You know how much time he has wasted throughout his life struggling with stuff? Months, I tell you. Many months. If he can just learn to ask for help!”

So, that’s the verdict. I don’t ask for help.

Just like I wasted the last two weeks scratching around on Mailchimp before finally asking you guys to help me with my email list. Problem easily solved, once I did that. Two weeks of my life- gone.

By the way, I don’t think its just me. So, if any of you are like me, here is the lesson for today:

Get over it. Stop wasting your life.

Ask. For help. Soon.

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Recent Comments

6

LOL! Oh my goodness, this was hillariously funny! And you were brave enough to stand and listen! ;-)

Love your writing style! You are bound to write excellent posts on your website and achieve great success! Keep it up!

Wishing you much success!
Sharlee (Chocolate IceCream)

Thanks Sharlee. You are being very kind!

Wow! Amazing post, its very captivating how you wrote it 👍🏻

Thank you Ma'm :)

Boy, am I glad to hear you say that! I ask for help all the time and then feel a bit guilty, like maybe I am asking too many questions and becoming bothersome. It sure helps, though. When you ask a question on here you get an answer.

A Lister, huh? That's pretty loud. Sorry, but I don't blame her for sleeping in a separate room. My cat snores, but then, so do I, so he doesn't complain.

:-)

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