Marriage: Do Not Sweat the Small Things – Yeah Right!

I’ve heard this so often that the next person who tells me to “not sweat the small things” will have his head ripped off his body. Forgive the gruesome picture. But trust me though when I say this, when it comes to marriage – it’s the little things that matter.

Sure, my husband and I have gone through the toughest times. As I’ve often said, we’ve been through hell and back, but when it comes to his farts, his dirty feet on the bed and his shoes inside our bedroom – I lose it. I just see red and I explode. Every time, I’d smell his fart or see his dirty feet enjoying my clean sheets, I find myself wishing I could just strangle him.

In his defense, he has little flaws (people –including me – just generally like or love him) and unfortunately, in my opinion, his farts, dirty feet and shoes are his worst flaws. He is hard-working. He often does the laundry. He takes care of the baby at night. And he listens to me whenever I rant like this. Nope, he is not a slacker, but damn it, he can irritate the hell out of me!

I have this thing for clean sheets. I do not want to sleep without taking a bath. I do not even want to jump on the bed without cleaning up first. So, whenever I see his dirty feet on the bed, I see red.

I have this thing about clean floors – and I absolutely forbid slippers or shoes inside the bedroom, so whenever I see him wearing his shoes inside, I’d see a neon blinking sign that says, “I don’t care what you think! Your feelings are not important to me! Bwahahahaha!” And then I’d find myself doing the most stupid things.

One time, we had an argument, I turned the television’s volume up, the whole neighborhood could practically hear the show that was on. It was 12 in the morning. He pissed me off over something I cannot remember.

That’s one stupid thing. Lately, I have developed the habit of spraying air freshener on his butt every time he farts. Kill the source, I figure.

The thing is I’ve tried explaining to him in many different ways how I feel and how important these things are to me. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve thrown a fit over his farts. I don’t understand how he can’t understand this simple request, “If you feel like farting, get out of the room. I can’t stand the smell of your fart!” It’s simple, right? The same goes with this shoes and dirty feet.

I’ve tried crying, cajoling, nagging, bullying, explaining, requesting – but nothing has worked! He still farts inside the room. He still wears his shoes inside the room and he still sleeps on the bed with dirty feet – I must admit though that he rarely does these things now.

But still one day, if I were found dead, it’d be because his fart finally killed me. I swear!

It’s the little things that really irritate the hell out of me. These things build up until like Mt. Vesuvius (where the hell is that?), I explode, leaving everything in my path dead. I’ve often heard people say to not sweat the small things. In marriage, however, it’s these things that really take their toll.

Choosing to stay married means choosing to forgive on a daily basis. In my case, to forgive – one fart at a time or one dirty feet or one dirty pair of shoes at a time. Oh, he has improved over the years. He makes an effort nowadays to make sure that he does not enter our room with dirty shoes. He cleans his feet before he jumps on bed. But the farts – oh, the farts. Their incurable.

I get lots of hugs and kisses though every time he farts. He knows how furious I’d get, so he’d rushed to my side and showers me with kisses and “I love you’s”. Of course, no matter how good those kisses feel, once the smell reaches my nostrils, I’d find myself exploding. Oh, well, we still have 50 years, so maybe, I’d be immune to the smell of his farts when I’m 70. Sigh. Or maybe I should invest in good BB guns.

About piebuko

A 31-year-old female homo sapiens, mother of two, wife of the bravest man on the planet and living a life of a great adventure. I earn my living playing with words.
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