The drop cloth is in the washing machine, and Didgeridoo Boy has successfully refused to deal with it. How the hell does he do this? He simply refuses, I comply, and life goes on in the fashion Didgeridoo Boy expects and accepts.
He's trying to sneak cigarettes into the living room again even though I've established a smoking lounge. (The use of discreetly-placed containers of charcoal and my purchase of a Lampe Berger make this possible.) Go into the room, close the door. Easy freakin' peasy, right? He gets angry when reminded to close the door, and slammed it so hard on a power cord for some of our Christmas lights last night that he got the damned door stuck shut. I let him stand there and knock. It was the highlight of my week, pretending to laugh at him "playing with the dog through the door" (it's a French door). He was stuck good and proper, dismayed, impatient. I counted to 130 before getting up and letting him back inside.
In short, give him half an inch, he'll take twenty miles. That's simply how Didgeridoo Boy is wired, and he's explained in many, many in-depth conversations why being reminded of things drums up bad vibes from his past. I get it, but I also wish he'd get that all I am trying to do is have a home and not a bowling alley. I did not grow up in a bowling alley. I grew up in a nice house with a view of a lake from my bedroom window that a famous golfer rented during Masters Week. And while I don't want a conservative home by any stretch of the imagination, I would love our raucously eclecticly decorated home to be clean, free of beer stains, and devoid of cigarette burns.
Ahhh, learning to live together. They say the first year is the hardest, don't they? Honestly, I love him, but it's rare for me to come up against someone this passively stubborn. I'm at a loss. Perhaps the solution is to simply purchase a few more Lampe Bergers and keep the vacuum in good repair.
But....what is he going to do when we get new furniture? Oy...
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