Sapping My Will To Live

This is becoming a common phrase for me. I'm tired. Why?

My husband's crap is completely wearing me down. My standards are being continuously stripped away through sheer exhaustion. I feel like just giving up and letting the clutter monster, the packrat, the slob that is my husband take over.

I don't want to do laundry and I don't want to do the dishes (several days worth are stacking up in the sink right now) and I don't want to vaccuum or put anything away or dust or anything else. Why bother? He will just come in and trash it.


It's his responsibility to clean off the stove of the dinner dishes and put them in the sink for me to clean. These were left overnight. As usual.


We have at least five baskets/organizers to sort all of the mail and other counter clutter into. He refuses to put these things away into their approapriate place as they come in. Instead it's "I'll get to it later." Later? You mean a month from now when I stop asking nicely and start screaming about it?


The dining room table is not your storage for your stereo equipment. If the children decide to play the drums on these subs its your fault not mine.


More stereo-related clutter in the form of that box and pipe combo. It's been there for over a week now. He promised he would get it put away--10 days ago. The child's seat? Been on the porch since the day after we bought the van (mother's day weekend) because I was putting it in the the van for the baby when I discovered it was broken. I wanted to throw it away, he won't let me. Says he will do something with it. Meanwhile the baby has outgrown his infant seat carrier and needs a new car seat. the porch swing broke the same day he said he would take care of the box/pipe thing and he said he would fix it (when? in a year or ten?) and finally he went to an auction and bought those godawful candles. They are Christmas decorations. He has the worst taste in Christmas decorations and I've repeatedly told him not to buy anything without my consent.


Ah, the fan box. Been hanging around the house about a week or so.


Moving onto the bathroom. He has a drawer at least a foot deep to store all his magazines in the bathroom. These are MORE magazines piled on top of the counter. I'm so close to going in and throwing THEM ALL AWAY. DO YOU HEAR ME MY LOVE? I'M GOING TO TRASH THEM IF YOU DON'T DO SOMETHING!


And the ever present pair of boxer shorts in the bathroom. He seems to think that by putting them on the window sill that he is putting them away. NOPE. WRONG. They do not belong in the bathroom at all. Three guesses where they belong people. I bet YOU guys can get it right.

Can anyone tell I'm reaching the end of my rope? It's either going to mean my totally giving up and letting the place go to shit OR it will mean me burning the place down. Wonder which would be better?

~Sleeping Mommy

Dead, Broken, Beat-up

Dead: the mini.
The mini is the car I bought for Peter in 2001 as a birthday present. It's an antique, and as its name suggests, it's quite small. Anyway, fast-forward four years and $7000.00 later on rims and tires and paints and other assorted restoration shit and it's nothing but a cute small car in our driveway. Sitting there. Dead.

Broken: the lawnmower
Did he break the lawnmower on purpose? Somehow I think my suspicions are true. It's embarassing to have lawn this high and our neighbors are probably calling us 'the slackers' .

Beat-up: my husband
He's gonna get a knuckle sandwich if this shit doesn't get settled pretty soon.
~Jen

I'm on strike...

I laid down the law this morning, er um, afternoon after I got up. I'm not doing another chore in this house until the lawn is mowed front and back.

The front was done this afternoon and the limbs hauled off. We paid a guy who was mowing a neighbor's lawn. He's promising to get the lawnmower battery replaced asap so the back can be done soon.

We will see. Meanwhile the dishes are going to continue to mount up. The laundry will go undone. The cat boxes will not be cleaned (er maybe not this one, that kind of smells). And the carpet will remain unvacuumed.

UPDATE: Front and back yard are both mowed and weedeated now. The dishes are washed in return and I never was able to stop myself from doing the laundry. Cat boxes are cleaned and the vacuuming--well that remains to be done.

~Sleeping Mommy

The Old Truck

Hello!

My name is Tanya (warcrygirl) and here's my contribution to My Husband's Crap.

I don't know if this qualifies or not, but this is my husband's old truck. It was having overheating issues for a while which my husband remedied by pouring water into the radiator to flush it out. Eventually it just up and died on him prompting us to buy a new truck (grrr!). He keeps telling me he's going to get the truck up and running soon. I don't know why.

The damage you see is from where he was moving the truck back onto the driveway (after one of his flushings) and with the driver's side door open he backed up and caught a small tree with the driver's side door. The tree pushed the driver's side door forward and shattered the driver's side window. Of course my first reaction was to point and bray like a donkey; the neighbors just laughed politely and pretended not to see the whole thing.

Hubby was not pleased.

So here it sits, a tribute to White Trash everywhere nestled securely in my driveway. My FIL has promised to tow it away to White Trash Land (a collection of crap in his back yard out in the country) but has yet to get it done.

~Warcrygirl

Where the hell did that kayak come from?

Hi,

Just to introduce myself - I'm Jen14221 and I'm 35. I'm a mom to baby Will and a wife to Peter. Peter has loads of crap. Tons. Enormous amounts.

When I first met and dated and eventually married the man, we lived in Boston. In teensey-weensey little apartments. There was crap galore but it was somehow contained.

About six months ago we moved to the Buffalo area and now we have a nice big house and a driveway and Oh My God a garage. In Boston, no one has a garage. You have to park on the street, and get dinged up and broken into. And that sucks.

So now I have a nice big garage. Where Peter likes to keep his crap. And there's no room for my car.



There's the refrigerator - see it in the back? - that he has promised (six months now) to bring down to the basement so I can actually use it. See those boxes? Been there since NOVEMBER. The kayak is a new one. Just installed onto the garage floor a few days ago.

~Jen