That Nagging Witch!

This past week, I've been walking around a minefield. Right foot forward! Right foot forward!

I try my best to say all the right things but they're not right enough! When she asks me to leave the room, I leave. But then she follows me out of the room to ask if I just stormed out. When I get home early from work, she says she wants to be left alone. But when I leave her alone, she cuddles up to me and asks me to pay more attention to her. Last night, when I offered to clear up after dinner, she gave me an entire list of things to do while clearing up. Load dishwasher, manually wash big pan (that doesn't go into the dishwasher, apparently!), clean the counters, wipe the sink et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. It made me groan inside. I'm not much of a clean freak, you see. In fact, I hate cleaning. If it were up to me, I'd fold up my dirty laundry back into my cupboard and wear them two more times before doing the laundry. To be honest, I'd rather do my laundry than actually clean the sink. Cleaning, to me, is like an XBox controller to a Play Station. Or like typing the command system.out.println on Rust. Or Node.js. Or JavaScript. They just don't go well together. And who says I'm not clean? I just cleaned my hard-drive. Have you seen my desktop? It's the cleanest place in the world. If I could do it, I would totally crawl into my PC and live on my desktop because it's THAT clean.

My first mistake was to offer to clear up after dinner when she was going bonkers. My second mistake was to not foresee "the list". My third mistake was to let my reluctance show. It was purely unintentional, but it somehow got reflected on my face and I may have looked like I didn't look forward to all the chores at hand. Then began the lecture. And just then, I made my fourth mistake. I tried to cut her speech short. The look she gave me almost scared me back into RELIGION. Institutionalised, government-approved religion that I have been keeping my distance from. "DO NOT INTERRUPT ME WHEN I'M TELLING YOU HOW EASILY YOU GET DISTRACTED BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT DOING YOURSELF ANY FAVOURS BY PROVING MY POINT.", she said and a shiver ran down my spine. Apparently, she was trying to tell me that she half expected me to get distracted by something on my computer when I should ideally be cleaning up after dinner. Just to prove her wrong, I got up from the couch to clean up while she brushed her teeth. I should brush my teeth before bed as well. My gums bled the other day. I don't care so much about the fact that they bled but I hate the taste of blood in my mouth. I worry that I won't be able to enjoy my food as much. As a matter of fact, I once read that *insert scientific trivia rant*. How did I start talking about bleeding gums, again?

This morning, the minefield was in a surprisingly good mood, making my favourite eggs and bacon for breakfast. She's really bad at cracking eggs when I'm around. She does it just fine on her own but whenever I'm around, she completely messes up. She says she gets "stage fright" because she can feel my "judgemental" eyes on her. If I had betted on her messing up for the past (how many months have we been married?) months, I would have won all of them. Because she always messes up around me. That was until this morning. She messed up one egg when I walked into the kitchen after my shower. I noticed that she was making my eggs and didn't want her to mess the second one up as well. So I walked away from there, intending to get ready for work. But then she started screaming and cursing like all hell had broken loose. I could see her fangs and her frothing mouth from where I was standing, so I knew this was serious. I quietly paced up to the kitchen to get a glimpse of what had awoken THE DEVIL that resides within her barely five-foot-tall body and saw it. It looked like the shell of this last egg was too thin and the minute she cracked it, it fell out as a whole. Not into the pan, but on the stove. It was an epic, beautiful, picture-worthy mess. The only reason I didn't capture it was my fear of being burnt to ashes by the red laser beams shooting out of her eyes. Well what do you know? Now she is capable of messing up her eggs even when I'm not around.

I slowly backtracked saying, "Awww baby awww it's okay, we can clean it up, aww but you're so pretty!" while trying my best to force that smile off my face. Or else she'd have wiped it off for me with that weird eyelash twitch thing that is going on. By God, what did I even marry into? Fangs, laser eye-beams, TWITCHING EYELIDS?

I remember a time when I would turn to her and say, "HAHAAAAAA you married me!". Nowadays she's the one who does that. In her Exorcist Satan voice while blood replaces tears in my eyes and I cry with the sound of her evil, roaring laughter enveloping my being.

~Written from the perspective of The Husband by yours truly~

Note: The Husband is going to be SO disappointed with that first paragraph.