I bit my lip. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, Miriam. Say nothing – it’s just salad after all,” I told myself.
It was after dinner and my darling husband realised I’d hit the wall. “You just sit there, darling. I’ll clear the table. Don’t move!” he announced.
I love it when he does that!
I forced myself to sit still and watch while he gathered up plates and scraped together leftovers.
He finally sauntered off to the kitchen, precariously balancing everything bar the half-finished salad in his arms. There’s only so much even a strong, domesticated man can carry at once, I guess.
Ten minutes later he returned triumphantly – setting down two cups of steaming tea & an assortment of chocolates – right in front of the large bowl of salad still sitting in the middle of the table.
Proudly grinning at me, he plonked himself down on the couch.
I smiled back encouragingly even though he obviously hadn’t quite finished the job.
As he started sifting through the assortment of DVDs on the table, I opened my mouth and shut it again. “Don’t say anything, Miriam,” I told myself. “You don’t need to constantly ride him. He’ll notice it himself in a minute.”
“What shall we watch honey?” he asked.
“Well, I’m still watching the half-finished salad sitting in the middle of the coffee table,” I thought to myself.
“This one’s really long…blah blah blah… Oh – this one has so-n-so in it. He was in that other film, remember?“
“Ignore it Miriam – it’s just salad. Plus I’m sure he’ll see it in any minute,” I told myself.
As it became clear he wouldn’t ‘suddenly’ see it, possibly not even for days or weeks, I considered my options. Ignoring it was obviously not an option. I’d never be able to relax and watch a movie. If I pointed out his oversight, it’d be seen as an ungrateful complaint. I wasn’t ungrateful, but well – the job wasn’t done. You women understand, right?
I suddenly realised he’d not brought us a saucer for the used tea bomb either.
I suppressed a sigh. Clearly I’d have to step in. I got up, put away the forgotten salad, brought back the saucer and started busying myself with the chocolate selection for the night, trying to ignore the look of “Oh damn – how’d I miss that?” on his face.
I had to try not to laugh.
There was a time when I would’ve been annoyed and even made a fuss about it. At some stage though, I simply decided to consciously not sweat the small stuff anymore.
Some things are just more important than salad – like a happy marriage and a husband who cares enough to make an effort – even if he is evidently BLIND !!
Much love, xx Miriam
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