As far as husbands go, I’ve got a pretty good one. He treats me with love and respect, he does his share of stuff around the house, he makes an effort with my friends and he refuses to get into arguments with me, no matter how hard I try and provoke them. Unfortunately though, he has the worst memory in the world and it drives me up the bloody wall.
He remembers things that he wants to remember. Unfortunately though, he fails to remember things of importance. I’ll walk into the kitchen in the morning and explain to him what I’m doing after work. He’ll call a couple of times during the day to ask what I’m up to that night. Then he won’t go home and feed the cats after work. When I ask him why not, he said he thought I was going to do it. He forgets that one of the cats has gone into the hot water cupboard so he’ll shut the door and leave it there for the day. He forgets that my car is going in for a service and that he needs to pick me up. He forgets that he has some important work meeting on when he tells me it’s ok to get people over for dinner.
Then when I get mad he tells me it’s not his fault. Are you kidding me? Who the hells fault is it then?
The last three holidays that we have planned have come a cropper when he realises that he’s double booked. Last time we lost over $1k when we had to change our flights and accomodation. When that happened I sat down and told him that I’d had enough. He has to start paying attention because it’s starting to make me more than slightly wild. He said that he understood.
What I didn’t realise was that it would seem he has as much of an issue with understanding as he does with remembering.
We have organised a winter holiday to Samoa for next month. After some careful date consideration, we settled on a week mid June. I got him to check his diary and gave him a week to think on it. In an exasperated voice he told me that it would be fine. I pointed out that it’s hardly fair to get angry at me for triple checking. He rolled his eyes.
Yesterday he told me that he had forgotten that the holiday date is two weeks out from his financial year end. I asked him what exactly he was trying to say. I suspect he could hear the rising fury in my voice because he looked pretty flustered and said nothing for a while. I made the loud siren noise that I make when he’s not answering me (that’s another whole blog) so he finally spat it out. He talked to his boss who said the likelihood that he can go it negligible. The flights aren’t negotiable.
I was speechless.
He mentioned that he loved me and that perhaps he should go for a quick run. I suggested that he make it a very long run. Like, for several days.