The Morning Grind

The secret to a happy marriage, if you want my opinion, is to put your husband on Prozac. I have this vision of myself crushing it up (the Prozac- not my husband) and hiding it in a hot dog- the same way I used to feed the dog her medication when she had a bladder infection. And like the dog, he would happily lap up the hot dog without bothering to wonder, if even for a second, why I have this sudden urge to feed him hot dogs three times a day.
Whether it would help or not I don't know.

It's just the little things, but a lot of little things can a big thing make.
For example, the coffee.
He claims that he doesn't drink coffee. Could never drink it. And neither could I. But somewhere between baby number two and baby number three I started drinking it periodically. Somewhere after baby number three I started drinking it fairly regularly.
So every morning I put on a half a pot of coffee, because he quote unquote doesn't drink it.

Except then, of course, he does. I pour a cup for myself and then he comes along and kills the rest of the pot.
And he won't ever initiate the coffee making. If I make it for myself, he'll drink it and drink it in fairly large quantities for someone who quote unquote doesn't drink it. If I'm running behind, the coffee pot sits there unused and vaguely murky looking, even as he takes a long, leisurely shower. The kind of shower I haven't had myself since twelfth grade--long enough for the water to run cold.
And so then I think, well screw that. I just won't make it and eventually he'll start making it.
Right?
Wrong.
I just end up going without coffee, which makes me miserable and unfailingly leaves me with a pounding headache at around one pm.
It never pays to be passive aggressive.
Never.

And then the light bulbs.
He tells me a few weeks ago that we're out. Really, I thought nothing of it. Until last week when he got rather snippy with me about it. "I told you a week ago that we were out of light bulbs, and you still haven't gotten any. I'm doing laundry in the dark."
First of all: You're doing laundry?? Is this the Apocalypse?? Although why he would be doing laundry in a doomsday scenario is not really clear. I was just trying to make a point. He doesn't oft do laundry, or as we call it in our house "the laundration (Yikes. Spell check really hates this word. It's really giving me a hard time about it) situation."
Secondly: Am I the only person in the world who has access to the exclusive light bulbing selling stores??
I mean, do I approach him when we're out of tooth paste and then wait on him to run to the store to buy it. No I go to the freaking store on my to or fro work and buy some. But no. Going to Wal Mart is like a weekend road trip for him. He cannot consider just zinging there on his way home to pick up light bulbs. I mean, how did I become the buyer of the light bulbs??
When he goes to Wal Mart, it's a production and you're gonna hear about it. It's like a weekend project. It's going to consume an entire Sunday afternoon, whereby he can be expected to nothing else, because he has to go to Wal Mart.
Anyways, I've resisted buying the light bulbs.
And now we're both doing laundry in the dark.
But mainly me, because that time he was doing the laundry was more or less a one off.
As I say, being passive aggressive simply doesn't pay.