Eat Steak & Die

I hate to admit it, but I spend about 3/4 of my day bitching about my husband -- be it audibly or silently. It's such a waste of time and energy, yet I can't stop. After eight years, you might think I'd get sick of this unhealthy behavior. However, it’s like an addiction, a bad habit I can't break. I know my friends and family must be sick of it. How could they not be -- I'm sick of it.

Just this morning I accidentally mumbled to him to rot in hell when my intention was to say "Have a nice day!" My best wishes didn't go unnoticed. He simply climbed into his truck in silence and with the nod of his head, flipped me off for good measure. Yes, it's apparent that we've taken a page from War of The Roses. Yet, that hasn't stopped us from fighting the good fight. We're completely dysfunctional and have no intentions of breaking the cycle. Come hell or high water, we refuse to file for divorce. Hell, one of us has to die of natural causes sooner or later.

When I hand him his steak, I do so with a smile and an "I hope you choke on it." I take pleasure in leaving his clothes in the dryer for extended periods of time so that they'll get extra wrinkled. I even go out of my way to make as much noise as possible when he's sleeping soundly. And so what if I serve him ground beef that's spent one too many days in the refrigerator? A little food poisoning never hurt anyone... or did it?

This all probably sounds a bit harsh. But this is the man who anyone would hardly consider an equal partner. After a verbal spar that send me running home to my parents, he simply informed me not to worry, that he would go over to the neighbor's for dinner. His stomach was his biggest concern. And my depature? Well, that proved to be a mini-vacation... for him!