Last week, during National Pet Peeves Week, I happened across an article written by an unmarried woman detailing her top ten pet peeves about men. While reading her complaints, I thought, “Wow, honey, just wait ’til you live with a man for thirteen years! I’ll show you some truly ‘pet’ peeves … ”
Where a young woman’s pet peeves might be more along the Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus lines, the pet peeves of couples who’ve lived together for a long time are those of people who have had years to slowly become completely unhinged over the smallest things. The most innocent act can become a trigger because the infuriating thing about pet peeves is that they do not have to be founded in rationality. In fact, it’s their very specificity and unique-ness that make them a “pet peeve.”
That said, despite our mutual love and admiration for each other, I’ve had years to build up my list of peeves, as has my husband. There’s not a doubt in my mind that he’d be quick to tell you about the maddening pile of clothes that I always leave in the bathroom, that I’m usually late (ex. Pet Peeves Week was LAST week), and that if he finds my laptop precariously balanced on the bar just inches above the kitchen sink again, he’s gonna scream.
It’s a two-way street. I get it.
But I’m the one with a blog. Heh.
So without further ado, [insert trumpet fanfare here], I present, in pictorial form with accompanying mini-rants, the top ten pet peeves that are 99% inspired by my husband.
So, what are your biggest husband-perpetrated pet peeves? And how about some wife-inspired pet peeves? (I bet there are some doozies out there.) Do you have a completely irrational pet peeve?
The Socks. Everywhere. DIRTY socks. 1 of 10This peeve stems not only from my husband, who leaves his dirty socks folded together like they're clean, necessitating that I have to unfold them in the laundry room, but the kids, too. I find dirty socks everywhere in the house, but most disturbingly they sometimes find their way onto the kitchen counter. THE KITCHEN COUNTER.
Toilet paper NOT on the holder. 2 of 10I conduct an experiment every once in a while to see just how long everyone in the house will go before they put toilet paper on the holder. So far, nobody has ever done it in our house except me. (And my passive-aggressive approach can only handle two weeks of the untidiness before I cave and put them all back on the holders.)
Dishwasher Loading 3 of 10I have friends who agree with my husband that I should just be grateful that someone else is doing the dishes.... However, I maintain that if the job is done poorly and requires me to clean up after the fact or ruins the contents, then why bother? I have asked him not to put knives, wooden utensils, Calphalon pots and giant mixing bowls in the washer. Repeatedly. I have tried the direct approach, the subtle approach, and the OMG?! WHY DO YOU INSIST ON DOING IT WRONG?!? approach. Nothing on earth will make him load the dishwasher the same way I do. Which is the perfect, most logical way, of course.
The bedside cup collection. 4 of 10I understand that hydration is important. However, four dirty glasses of water, two of which are not currently being used and one of which is actually a wine glass? Just bring them back to the kitchen where they belong, please.
The inconveniently placed shoes. 5 of 10This one is tricky because I, too, am guilty of leaving my shoes wherever I kick them off. However, there is an important distinction: I only kick mine off under tables or against walls. My husband takes his off in the middle of high-traffic pathways in the house. FYI: This is especially aggravating when I stub a toe on or trip over a pair in the middle of the night on the way to the bathroom.
My toothbrush is exactly that, MINE. 6 of 10The issue of the toothbrush is not so much that I can't stand the idea of him using mine ... it is that he uses my toothbrush in spite of the fact that his toothbrush is sitting RIGHT THERE. As in, that is my toothbrush that he has used and tossed in the bottom of the sink and that is his toothbrush sitting unused by the faucet. Seriously?!
If you pack a bag, inevitably you must UNpack it. 7 of 10I hate unpacking as much as the next person. But this bag has been sitting in our bedroom since September 4th. You do the math, because if I do: my head will explode.
The house temperature. 8 of 10My husband calls me "climatically-challenged" and I call him "thermostat nazi." I get that the price of heating is outrageous in our Midwestern climate, but 62Ëš and sitting at a desk typing all day DO NOT MIX. Adding layers is just not possible for fingertips.
The sheet shedding. 9 of 10It's like he's allergic to sheets. No matter how neatly I make the bed (which, granted, is not a strong suit), my husband manages to slough off the sheet and I end up tangled, in all it's queen-sized glory, on my side by morning.
The snooze button. 10 of 10My other half is one of those people who is most productive first thing in the morning, so he likes to get up early. Which I heartily commend. However, if you're going to set an alarm for 4:45am in the same room as a light-sleeper — it is just not cool to hit the snooze button THREE times. Ever.
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