It starts with a little argument about our house that turned into a full blown, silent treatment kind of dispute. I wanted to put shelves up in a certain part of our bathroom to display essentials like the 20 year old bottle of Chanel No 5 I found in my mom's drawer, and the 95 cent bowls I scored at Anthropologie. Things that absolutely need to be on a shelf center stage in our bathroom.
Since my brain turns to mush as soon as it tries to think about tools and drywall anchors and studs, I needed Y to put up these shelves. But when he tried to drill, it was more difficult than he thought due to a piece of metal in the wall. He managed to successfully put up one shelf, but he wasn't willing to do more damage to the wall to put up the second shelf.
I -- because I'm so handy, remember? -- tried to convince him that one tiny hole in the wall wasn't going to affect anything. This is where things got hairy. Apparently, I was "nagging". Psh.
"Why can't we put them over here?" he asked, pointing across the room.
"That doesn't make any sense!" Why would we have one shelf on this wall, and one halfway across the room? Boys.
"You literally picked the one spot in the wall where we shouldn't drill. Find a different spot."
Eventually -- it took at least 3 days -- Y realized that I was not going to shut up about the shelf. He successfully hung it, much to his chagrin. So far our house is still standing.
The second part of this story involves the facts that a) these shelves are above the toilet, and b) Y believes that when he "only pees a little", flushing the toilet is not required.
You see where this is going.
When my moisturizer fell into some fresh urine the other night, there was no question: HE was fishing it out. Not only was it his urine, but he has dug around inside a) dead people and b) rectums. And probably c) dead people's rectums. All gross tasks should default to him.
This is where it gets good, fellow naggers. Listen carefully.
As he gingerly placed the bottle in the sink, I shook my head. "Whose idea was it to put those shelves there, anyway?" It was sarcastic; slightly apologetic. I was ready to take the blame.
He looked at me, anger flashing in his eyes. "Where else would we have put them?" he retorted indignantly, as if I had insulted his greatest work of art.
You guys. Residency makes them forget. The possibilities are endless.