The Ultimate Balancing Act

I love my wife. I love her. She’s amazing and an amazing mum to our two. She’s clever, beautiful, youngish; she’s multilingual. So if I want to find things wrong enough with her to complain about I have to try really, really hard. Luckily, I have been able to do so:

  1. She refuses to snack in between meals (even if the meals are many hours apart or even non-existent) which results in an often hungry and behaviourally challenging wife.
  2. She is able, at the drop of a hat, to turn off the ability to see what I am showing her or hear what I am telling her.
  3. She stacks the dishwasher badly and by badly I mean in a non-systematic way that takes no advantage of the available space and results in dried crap from some items sticking to the outside of others.
  4. When I pass her a cup of something, brimming hot tea for example, she grasps and moves it at the same time rather than securely taking it, pausing to confirm said secure taking, and only then bringing it to her lips to drink.
  5. She has a complex and only recently diagnosed (by me) inability to put drinking vessels directly onto the stable horizontal surfaces that have been explicitly designed for that very purpose. She also suffers from the accompanying issue which relates to the ensuing balancing act of these vessels on wholly unsuitable and unstable surfaces such as beds, sofas, books, armrests and my personal favourite, a sandwich.

Did I mention that I love her to bits?

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