The Marriage Chronicles

It was one of those days where I felt like I did everything.

Truth is, I do end up being responsible for the majority of housework chores, but that doesn’t mean Steven does nothing.

But that’s how I felt.

So when the dog was barking (verrrry loudly) I demanded Steven take her out to pee. And I wasn’t very nice about it. Because I wasn’t very nice, he got angry. And so began the argument.

It was one of those “I do everything and you do nothing.” kind of arguments with rebuttals consisting of “You’re so bossy!”

Until finally, Steven retreated to the bedroom, leaving me huffing and puffing and pacing in the living room. I like resolution, so I wasn’t calming down too much.

I came bursting into the bedroom and yelled, “FINE! I WILL NEVER ASK YOU TO DO ANYTHING EVER AGAIN! I WILL DO ALL OF THE THINGS!”

And then I saw it. All eight long legs attached to a cylinder body. Staring at me above the mirror on the wall.

My heart jumped into my throat. Because holy shit. That’s a spider.

“I’ll even kill this spider all by myself,” I say through tears, because I always cry out of frustration when he just won’t listen.

WTF?! My brain said. You’re gonna kill this spider?

I grabbed a huge stack of paper towels and a chair from the kitchen. Because that motherfucker was high up on the wall.

I stood on the chair and stared at it.

“I’m using your shoe,” I said as I marched to the closet.

Back up on the chair I swung Steven’s tennis shoe high above my head. But I imagined the little monster dodging the shoe, jumping right out at me and landing in my hair. So I chickened out, and brought my arm down. I cringed and shut my eyes. Because holy shit. That’s a spider. And spiders are fucking creepy.

Steven snickered.

“Shut-up. I’m going to kill this spider,” I said.

“Want me to do it?” he offered.


I swung the shoe high again, and whacked that stupid thing. I screamed and shut my eyes. Because HELLO, near death experience here. The nastyass spider fell down the wall and landed on the edge of the mirror. I scooped him up in a wad of about eight papertowels and hopped off the chair.

Steven tilted his head back and laughed loudly. One of those deep belly laughs that your dad or grandpa makes when he tells a joke.

Then I laughed too.

“I’m proud of you, fluff,” he said.


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