“What the SHITTING HELL ARE YOU DOING????” was my response to my beloved – and at that moment I internally combusted, raging, tired, in my dressing gown and pissed off at his stupidity. And so our morning of squabbling began.
It wasn’t the fact that he was trying to steal my Martha Stewart moment of ‘Why don’t you use this string darling instead of the laces that are on FIRE”! It was more the fact that he was doing this with now only 5 minutes before he had to leave the house. He has no concept of time management, he never plans for the day ahead and he is always on the cusp of being late for everything. I hate it. 65% of our arguments stem from his time keeping. It drives me to insanity and I physically feel myself changing like the Hulk if I think he’s going to be or make us late for something. (Even now I’m turning slightly green at the thought).
I grabbed his boots, smoldering laces and spoon (?) and ordered him to run and get changed whilst I ‘fixed’ things. Sure enough – as he finally emerged dressed and with boots firmly on – he was ready with 5 seconds to spare. My fingers were cut from trying to sort out the laces but he was triumphant. “See” he said, “ I’m never late!”. THANKS TO ME!!
What irks me more than anything is that he’s right! He isn’t actually LATE per say, but I don’t think he appreciates that behind his laidback stature is a flapping wife who is stressed out beyond belief to make sure he is “never late”.
Next time – I’m sleeping through the alarm!