Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Plastic Glasses & Other Oxymorons

“Hey Sweetie, do you have the original copy of your will handy?”

I am searching for items that should be in our safety deposit box. I need to meet one of our older kids at our bank to have them added as a signed and keyed boxholder with Steve and I in case of an emergency. As I dig through strangely filed paperwork in our office, I hear rustling from the livingroom, but no answer from my spouse.

I descend the stairs and whip around the corner to see The Hubster sitting in his recliner, magazines in hand and a quizzical look on his face.

“How can you have an original copy of something?” asks He.

I sense a circuitous debate in the offing, so I switch subjects.

“Dinner will be ready in about a half hour. Can you set the table for me, please? I’m running down to the bank, picking Manlet up from baseball practice and will be home in twenty minutes or so,” I respond, now half way out the door. I can always take his will down to the bank on a different day. I don’t think our house will burn to the ground in the next week or so before Steve’s permanent demise occurs.

Unless he does sets the house on fire, in which case I probably would kill him.

As I pull the door shut I can hear some sort of mumblings from Hubby, but I am on a mission and don’t have time to decipher. I will most likely find out when I return, as he tends to take a while in his ramblings.

Sure enough, when I return to the kitchen, Steve is still setting the table.

“What do you want to drink with dinner,” asks He, “And what size glass do you want?”

“Ice water, please, and the biggest glass,” I say as I start dishing up dinner onto platters and into serving bowls, then dashing them into the diningroom.

On my second trip back into the kitchen I see Steve finish filling two medium sized glasses with ice and water. Since I had just heard Manlet ask for orange juice, I questioned who the extra glass of ice water was for.

“You!” says He.

“But I wanted the really big glass, Dear!” I respond.

“This is the biggest glass we have!” proclaims The Hubster.

I walk over to the cabinet and pull out a monster glass that holds about twentytwo ounces. I hand it to Steve, telling him that I meant one of these.


Oh Lordy. Here we go again.

“Sweetie, when I say ‘glass’ I don’t necessarily mean the material. Glasses can be made out of many different things. I would like to drink out of this for dinner tonight.”  

“So we can always use plastic at dinner time? So I can put these exact plastic drinkware items out when we have people over for Easter or Christmas dinner? You are saying that II can use whatever items I want to set the table with whenever I want?”

He’s on a roll now. It’s been a long day and I’m not up to his debates. I try to explain that it’s situational, like when he wears slacks and dress shirts to work, except occasionally on Fridays when he can wear jeans and tee shirts. He just doesn’t get it.

Then I try a simple, “How about I set the items that I want on the table right here on the counter for you? Would that help?”

Now very angry, and probably frustrated with the misunderstanding, The Hubster roars his disapproval, accusing me of trying to ‘control’ everything all the time. He stomps out of the room.

I sigh as I sit down with Manlet to eat. I am weary. Perhaps I can laugh later.


  1. Im laughing at this end for you. This happens all the time. I cant say "can you get ? out of the cupboard". I have to say which cupboard, which room, which shelf and possible location (left or right). I have to store a visual description of not only my things (including household) but also all his things - because he cant keep track of anything.

    1. ok - now i'm laughing! you are sooooo spot on!!

    2. Oh yes, this is so so true!
      Me "please can you get me my book from our bedroom"
      him " where is it?"
      Me " on my bedside table, it's called ............."
      Him , coming downstairs, " sorry, couldn't find it"

      So I go upstairs, get it from where I said, come downstairs, show him, he says " well I couldn't see it"

      What planet is he on?

    3. lol - my hubby would say emphatically "i'm not on a planet! neuroscopic studies indicate rudimentary subarticulate particles coexist in constantly wax and waning phases amidst bilateral dimensions of...."

      need i say more?

  2. I'm sure that I've caused my wife to feel as weary as you sound, through similar debate about things that aren't really worthy of debate.

    A recent example, from a couple weeks ago, for the humor's sake:

    My wife and daughter had baked several pans of coconut bread for a girl scout function. There was nearly a whole pan left, and it was on our kitchen counter, in a plastic container with a tight-fitting lid. I came home from work one evening, while everybody else was out, and had a piece of the bread. The lid was off the container when I got home, and I left it off, assuming that there was some reason that the lid should be off the container. An hour or so later, my wife and daughter got home, and within five minutes of walking in the door, my wife asks me why I've left the lid off the container of coconut bread. I explain that the lid was off when I came home, so someone else must have left it off. My wife, sounding a bit defensive, said "well, the lid was on the container the entire time I was home today." I said, well perhaps one of the kids opened the container and didn't close it. She said "well, maybe so, but it was closed the whole time I was home today." After we had dinner, I said that I thought I would have a piece of the coconut bread for dessert. My wife said, "yum, that sounds good. I had a piece of that for breakfast this morning." I said to her, "I thought you said the container was closed the entire time you were home today." She said yes, that was what she said, and yes, the container HAD been closed the whole time she was at home. So I asked, probably with a harsh tone that I typically don't recognize until well after the discussion, "so how exactly did the piece of bread you ate for breakfast get OUT of the container that remained CLOSED the entire time you were home today?"

    It's probably a good thing that there wasn't anything convenient for her to throw at me, or I might have been a good target.

    1. thank you so much for sharing from your perspective!

      i often find that steve becomes frustrated with me because i am not specific enough, or i am too specific, or because i sound confrontational, or sound as if i am scolding or lecturing him... when i ask what makes him think those things, he responds "your tone of voice and your expression"

      funny thing is, i thought that vocal intonation and facial expressions were two things that many aspergians have trouble deciphering... lol