I love my honey boo, my male, my better half, my baby, my "mayan". The one who helps me when I don’t ask, the person that supports every new idea that I want to do, the guy who handles the dirty work around the house. He who will jump out of his bed and kill his deep rest, just to squash a bug that has me paralyzed on the steps, I love him. However, even in all his spectacular glory, when he makes me angry, he makes me angry. When, I am angry at my man, I am Mangry (Man & Angry). It’s my word, I like it, and I use it because I really don’t like saying I’m angry at my boo. Speaking badly about my sweetie is not my thing, we stick together like birds of a feather, and we defend each other to the end, but when I am mangry, I want to run through the wall or scream at the top of my lungs. The stupid thing is, the anger is usually over a stupid thing. Truly you can relate. 90% of mate anger comes from frustration over a tiny issue, that constantly repeats itself.
For instance, I am currently mangry, because my sweetheart prefers to wash dishes using a small bowl of soapy water. He will fill a small tupperware container with one half water and approximately a quarter cup of dish liquid. A quarter cup of dish liquid. That is too much dish liquid. I don’t purchase a flimsy, no bubbles or grease cutting liquid, I buy Dawn, Ajax, or Palmolive. I prefer Dawn, but each work well and a quarter cup is not needed for a small sink of dishes or a large sink. To add more fuel, the bowl collects food particles and looks gross.
If he washes the dishes three times a day, he will use the same method; therefore wasting, I mean using a quarter cup of dish liquid each time. I know, I know. Why am I complaining? At least my guy washes the dishes. This is true. I love that he rolls his sleeves up and washes a sink full of dishes, but the extreme over usage of dish liquid drives me a up a wall and makes me mangry, and the use of the small bowl…I don’t get that. I’m not going to run through a list telling of the many things that causes my manger (man anger), but the washing of large loads of clothing and not remembering to transfer from the washer to the dryer until three days later -when they are stinky and need to be rewashed- is up there on my list.
I’m just saying, maybe he should leave the washing to me. I’m “just saying” this to you, I’m not going to say that to him. I’m not crazy. It may be wasteful, but it does help a sistah out, especially when she had a long day and can’t imagine standing in front of a dirty sink, or a pile of funky clothes. Bottom line: no matter how much we love each other, it will always be the tiny male/female idiosyncrasies that pick our nerves the most. Love you honey. **Blowing kisses**Muah**Muah**