Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time. - Marthe Troly-Curtin
I sometimes think I should adapt this sign for use in my home. Something like, “The mother who cleans this house also determines pretty much everything about your social life. Please act accordingly.”
So last night I introduced my kids to the 80s Cusack oeuvre with Better Off Dead. The husband wandered in to watch part of it, and I mentioned that I’m planning to follow this up with One Crazy Summer, The Sure Thing and Hot Pursuit.
“One Crazy Summer was good,” he said. “The others weren’t.”
Not, “I didn’t like them.” They weren’t good.
He does this pretty much every time we have a difference of opinion on something. Not a difference of facts: a difference of opinion.As in, how I feel about something versus how he feels about it. And in his mind, if my opinion is different than his, my opinion is wrong. I could give examples, but they are too numerous and it just makes me seethe to think of them. Seething is bad for my health.
But do you know what it’s like being married to someone who constantly tells you that your opinions, when different from his, are wrong?
It’s like being married to a goddamn one-person internet comments section.
This song has been rambling through my head at odd moments for most of the past four days. I’m putting it here in hopes that it might stop for a while if somebody else takes it from me.
(Not that I don’t like the song, obviously. It’s just that the earworm is getting a wee bit annoying.)
This is almost the only thing I use IMVU for anymore: taking pictures.