It Depends On The Jolts

We had a little thunderstorm roll through about two hours ago. Of course it crashed Crashy. Thank the Gummi Mary that Gamey is still critically dead. Or else it would have killed him again. The power didn't even really go off. It dimmed and came back, several times. And I don't even think they're executing anyone at the prison tonight.

I asked HH what we need to do about this electrical crap. Seeing as how that's his job and all. How he's elbow deep in electric boxes half the day. The other half, he's in something called the 'oil pit'. That's what he says. For all I know, he's wrestling oiled-up bikini-clad hoochies. Anyhoo...HH said we need good surge suppressors. I asked him what he considers good. Surely my $19.97 one is better than a $2 one. I asked, "How much is a good one? Two hundred dollars?" HH said, "I don't know. It depends on how many Jolts they can carry."

Ahem. Jolts. This is from a man who works with electricity for a living. Aren't you glad you don't live in Missouri? So I said, "Jolts? Are you sure that's the word you're looking for?" And HH said, "You know. Joels." No. I don't know Joels. But as a science teacher who has dabbled in physics, I am familiar with Joules. So I said, "Do you mean 'Joules'?" And HH agreed. But what with all the trouble I had dragging that scientific info from him, I don't know if it really lists such a thing on surge suppressors.

I am also not happy with HH due to his compulsive shirking of responsibility. For example, this morning as he was packing some snacks to take to his annual family reunion, he didn't have enough room due to an empty water bottle left on the cutting block. I walked into the kitchen and noticed his predicament. I said, "Where'd this water bottle come from?" Because, well, it wasn't there when I went to bed at 1:00 a.m. HH said, "I don't know. Maybe one of the kids left it there." Which is a bunch of hooey, because those kids wouldn't drink water from a bottle unless they were giving it away for free at school when the boil water order is on. And besides, it was a brand indiginous to the BARn, because HH bought a case of purified water one time, and keeps it over there because I won't drink it. And he had taken some of it down into the woods last night to the MiniMansion. Sooo...I continued, "The kids don't drink water out of the bottles. #1 drinks right out of the sink faucet, and #2 hauls out that 50 lb. pitcher of cold water to spill it when he pours." HH stalled for a minute, then said, "Well, it's possible it could be mine, from when I got up at 3:00 to get a drink. But I'm sure I threw the empty bottle away." So I had to ask, "Oh, and one of the boys picked it up out of the trash and took the lid off and set them on the cutting block while we were sleeping?" Because I had to wake up both boys at 9:30 this morning.

See? If he would just say, "Oh, I forgot to throw it away. Could you get it?", then I would. It makes me want to scream when he devises such elaborate scenarios to avoid responsibility. It's like when I ask if I can bring him something from the kitchen, and instead of saying 'yes', he says, "I don't care" or "If you want to". And when he does that, I say, "I don't care either, so I won't" or "I don't really want to, so forget that I offered". Because he drives me crazy with this freakin' avoidance of responsibility and decision-making. Like he had a pile of stuff on the kitchen table, and said it wasn't his. "Well, that's the bill for my breather that I had to talk to insurance about, and I figured you would put it away and not just leave it there." Which I would have, if he ever told me he was done with it, or had put it back in my purse, or on the bill stack. So I used his favorite excuse when he has done something wrong: "Well, I don't know what you're doing."

How would he like it if I threw a couple of lawn chairs out in the 6-acre yard when he's mowing? "Well, I thought you'd pick them up. I don't know where they came from. Maybe the dogs drug them out there. I guess it could have been me, trying to teach you a lesson, but I'm sure I changed my mind because it's not worth arguing about. And anyway, you can see I'm not sitting in them, so you know you can move them. I swear, I don't know what you're doing when you get on that mower every other week."

Just sayin'...he drives me nuts. It's not like I'm his personal servant. Even though he would like to think so. He sure doesn't pick up my stuff, or do anything, for that matter, when he takes time off and I'm still working. Except for clogging the sink this last time.

Don't get me started. I could go for days on this topic. I'll save it for another time. I'm sure it will be good for debate, with me being on the unpopular side. Because I am at the breaking point, people, after YEARS of dealing with this scoffresponsibilifellow.

That's my new word for this week. Scoffresponsibilifellow. Feel free to use it if you dare.