Posting From My Office
I'm constipated and hoping that sitting on the toilet in a relaxed, blogging state for a while will encourage the body to take a shit. One could hope, right? While I'm here I'd like to ask a question about partners. In my case, my partner has a penis but I am not sure that it matters. That didn't come out quite as anticipated. Uh...I am married to a man, however I think this might just be a person thing and not a male thing. Is that better? I fucking hope so because my legs are falling asleep.
What I am laboriously attempting to say is that Teddy Bear came home tonight with a foreign beach towel. Foreign meaning it did not belong to us, not meaning that it came from another country. Which, it probably did at one point but FUCK I cannot get to the topic at hand, can I? Chicken looks at the towel and states, "Oh that is [a friend of TB's sister]'s towel." I look at it and wonder why the fuck TB brought it home from work. Apparently, his father/step-mother unit found it while unpacking from the houseboat vacation and thought it was ours. They gave it to TB at work to bring it home. TB had no idea whether it was ours or not.
This is where I say, "What the fuck? We have FOUR beach towels. Only four. And you have no idea what they look like. Where do you live?"
Is it just me or should a person living in the house know what our beach towels look like? Do you have a significant other that is totally clueless and would likely bring home the wrong fucking child if someone said, "Here I think this is yours"? What the shit, people?
What I am laboriously attempting to say is that Teddy Bear came home tonight with a foreign beach towel. Foreign meaning it did not belong to us, not meaning that it came from another country. Which, it probably did at one point but FUCK I cannot get to the topic at hand, can I? Chicken looks at the towel and states, "Oh that is [a friend of TB's sister]'s towel." I look at it and wonder why the fuck TB brought it home from work. Apparently, his father/step-mother unit found it while unpacking from the houseboat vacation and thought it was ours. They gave it to TB at work to bring it home. TB had no idea whether it was ours or not.
This is where I say, "What the fuck? We have FOUR beach towels. Only four. And you have no idea what they look like. Where do you live?"
Is it just me or should a person living in the house know what our beach towels look like? Do you have a significant other that is totally clueless and would likely bring home the wrong fucking child if someone said, "Here I think this is yours"? What the shit, people?
Labels: Road Trip, Teddy Bear, WTF
posted by Sam at
6:38 PM
17 Comments:
First off are you eating prunes? Taking anything food wise to help you poop? Colace is also safe for pregnancy and softens it ya know???
OK this will likely sound sexist but when I dated men that would happen all the time, since dating women not so much. I do think it is a mindset and he honestly never even notices, I bet there is clothing he wears he has never noticed.
It's not just you. Sometimes I'm astounded to find out what he is not aware of.
It's not just you.
Trust me.
I hope everything came out alright! :)
From the male point of view...I see nothing odd about his not noticing/knowing. There are just certain things that a guy's not going to keep inventory of. And to take it further--if that means there's now an extra beach towel in the house? SCORE!
nope, not just you...
peace...
in my defense ... we've never been to the beach. *if* i'd seen the towels before, it was close to 2 years ago. even then, i doubt it was all four simultaneously for a duration substantial enough to commit their particular color schemes to memory -- it's not like we use the fucking things all the time.
Constipation is about being dehydrated. Drink 1/2 glass of warm water or mild decaff tea or herbal tea. Every 15-20 minutes. Nothing cold, and you don't want to gulp bunches of water at once, that creates other discomforts.
And walking does more to encourage bowel movements. Or lie on your back, and gently (very gently), massage the abdomen in the direction of the large intestine and colon - up from the hip to the bottom rib on the right side (even if you are left handed), across the bottom of the ribs, down the left side to the center over the pubic bone. Remember how you do something similar to encourage normal, colic-free action in babies? Gentle touch to encourage the muscles to contract in the proper sequence - don't try to 'push' anything 'through'. And force moderate amounts of warm water.
As for the beach towel. Most things that we remember are tied to a place, an action, a moment shared with a person. You may be remembering that towel because of the time you spent choosing it, because of the companion with you the day you bought it, or something else that that particular towel ties to, to form your memory.
Unless TB had gone trick-or-treating wearing *only* that towel, someone had made fun of him being seen with that towel (maybe), or he had agonized over whether to buy you that particular towel instead of the lime green and puce NASCAR towel - he has little reason to remember it.
Walter Matthau's wife in "First Monday in October" accuses him of not knowing what pattern is on his wall paper. Which he doesn't know. The point is that his wife spent a lot of energy picking out that wall paper, and needed to know the pattern and colors every time she picked a piece of furniture. Walter entrusted decorating to his wife.
And TB turned over 'buy beach towels' to you. Apparently he doesn't require you to buy to his choices in beach towels - either he feels a towel is a towel, or at least that you got the towels you wanted. He spent no energy selecting the towel, nothing traumatic or dramatic ties that particular towel to his memory. He is probably as astounded that there are precisely four towels in the house, as that you recognize each as clearly as if they were dogs or cats. Or kids.
I still visualize the JC Penney store the day I bought some of the tools in my tool box. That was mid 1970's. JC Penney stopped selling tools years ago. I recall the set of tools each screwdriver came in, or where I acquired it, and usually each and every incident when a tool was damaged.
I don't think the point is that a partner doesn't notice whether a towel belongs to the household. Usually only a shared experience would let two people 'own' the recognition of the object. He doesn't count towels to see that all are present and not wadded up under someone's bed, so he probably isn't invested in knowing the correct towel count of bath towels, beach towels, hand towels, dish towels, etc. You might find it tough to identify the chamois that he uses to clean the car, vs. the neighbor's chamois.
Or whether a given screwdriver is his.
Hope everything works out OK!
I think to most man.... a towel is just a towel. Just make sure there is one when needed... say after a shower.
Certain information refuses to be absorbed in a man's brain. Kid's clothes, clothings size, school/day schedule etc. Just TMI to keep up with and hey! they have us for that...
sigh
Go look for Plum Sweets in the dried fruit aisle of your grocery store! They're small pieces of prune coated in dark chocolate. I hate prunes and I was able to get these down during my first trimester when I was having similar issues. Good luck!
My Dad would have absolutely NO CLUE what beach towels are in the house. None.
it is NOT just TB!
I'm probably with TB on this one.
Towels aren't something I really pay much mind to unless I need to dry off with one.
Just be grateful, Sam. You could have my OCD husband-to-be, who not only knows what our beach towels look like and how many there are, but also has a complicated system for where and how they should be stored in our tiny condo and he gets his panties in a bunch when he finds them in the wrong place. I'd prefer TB's approach, personally.
That is not a 'man' thing, but a 'husband' thing. I think what happens is:
Seemingly competent and intelligent man gets married, man realizes his wife knows everything, so man decides he doesn't need to know anything and flushes his brain, leaving more room for porn fantasies and baseball stats. The End.
Are you kidding me with the towels?
I have gone from brunette to BLOND and my husband comes home and looks straight at me without a fucking clue.
I'm not joking.
ps. Skip the prunes and get your pregnant ass some Culturelle pro-biotic.
Right now.
They sell it at CVS and it will make your life SO, SO much uhhh, easier.
Miralax has been a lifesaver for CN, aka Mr. Bi-Monthly Pooper.
don't know if it's ok for preggers peeps, though.
and it's been my experience that men are not so sharp on the details of things. in general. i think it's in their DNA or something. has to do with being hunters. they need to respond to moving things quickly. this is why they like gadgets and machines and video games. lots of movement.
on the other hand, we are gatherers. in order to be successful gatherers, we need to remember where the fuck all the berries are for gathering purposes. that's why women remember where the can opener is, and men don't. and why you know what the towels look like and TB doesn't. he's not designed to be a gatherer. unless it moves, he won't pay attention to it. this also explains men's love of boobs.
anyway, this is my armchair anthropology answer.
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