Fish for Friday: What makes you grouse?

I don't like it when....

Today's theme, as announced in last week's limerick, is what makes you grouse / When your friend or your spouse / Does or says something that wears you away?

My dear husband says "know what I mean?" at the end of most sentences he utters, and it REALLY gets on my nerves. Of course I know what he means!
    Fortunately, I'm crazy in love with this man!

Hmmm. “Wears you away”?...If I interpret that as “mean-sprited” wearing yourself away/tearing you down, I would not hang or live with such a person
    But I did. I had a friend, the fascinating, annoying, perplexing Pam, now deceased. She could really put me down. I went to stay with her while she had an outpatient procedure (her fake boobs were leaking, so they needed to be removed). There was no actual nursing involved. She greatly appreciated the company and merrily began to have us go out to drink and dine a few times every day. A more fattening and expensive visit than I had envisioned.
    And, there were the following exchanges: One evening, as I stretched, I gently moaned/whined/complained about some mild pain in my back, and she said, huffily, “Can't it just be about ME this time?” And much more annoying, when I expressed my frustration or stupidity at understanding how her screen door lock worked, “Well, CLEARLY, YOU have never OWNED A HOME!”
    As I left at the end of the week, thrilled to be going home and determined not to put up anymore with her verbal jabs at me and everyone she found lacking, or her foul language, negative views, etc.
    And then, I thought: We do share personal history. We share generational history and educational level; she “spoke my language.” She had a great sense of humor. She needed a friend. And I liked to be needed.
    So I committed myself to continuing to talk to her on the phone once a week as we had done for years, and I was the one who visited her in the nursing home and saw to her final estate sales and distribution. And it was worth it, emotionally and fiscally. And, as she got into the early onset dementia that killed her she got nicer.
    As to the annoying stuff we all do, where to begin?

• He comes back to bed after the middle-of-the-night bathroom trip and rearranges the covers by opening them in a sort of wave motion (you know, the same motion we all use to open a sheet over a bed, as we make the bed) that WAVES COLD AIR ALL OVER ME! And then he re-wraps himself, pulling the covers away from my tightly wrapped self.
• I once said very carefully, very gently, “Dear, could you PLEASE move the dirty dishes into the sink, instead of leaving them on the counter NEAR the sink?” (I HATE visual clutter!) He thoughtfully replied, “Yes. Can you not leave crumbs on the counter?” OOOPS.

First off, I do NOT want my significant to know Im yakkin about them, and thats why I aint saying which sex they are.
    Anyway, they seem to have a dire need to make me feel bad about it when I do something they dont like—even something that to me is pretty trivial, like put back a folding chair before they are through sitting on it. They could just get it out again, but that would mean passing up an opportunity to stick it to me again.
    "Why did you put that chair back?" they ask, and not just for info.
    "I thought you were finished with it," I explain.
    "Aint you learned yet? When I'm through with something, I'll put it away."
    Trouble is, they dont always put it away. If they did, that would mean I could actually learn their routine. But if I did, they would have less opportunities to catch me in the wrong. That woudnt do at all.
    And since there are umpteenthousand trivial things I can be caught in the wrong over, not a day passes—hardly a morning or afternoon—that I aint being scolded or lectured about something.

One time, during an evening session of her complaining on the same subject, I secretly recorded it. Then next evening, when she started up again on the same subject, I said, "Wait, I'm going to save you some energy," and proceeded to play the tape back.
    The relationship ended soon thereafter.
    As Einstein said, "Women get married hoping the man will change. Men get married hoping the woman won't. They both end up disappointed."

With all due respect, are you people crazy? You want people to put in writing, where anyone can read it—including your spouse—the issues you might have with your spouse? I am sorry any of you have any such issues with your spouses, and that you think others may have secret complaints as well, but all is absolutely perfect here—no spouse grousing to contribute at all. No bass bashing, or quail railing, or any other bizarre animal/fish/reptile alliterations or bad rhymes to contribute either. Sorry for the rest of you, but all is great here. That is my story, and I am sticking with it.

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Limerick of the Week, with an introduction to next week's topic:

Since you seem to get a kick out of some things that surprise me, here is one for you:



An irony is that this clip captures about what I would expect to see happen if a highly trained person had to take on a bunch of street thugs. Jack lets the thug throw the first punch, ducks under it, spins his back into him and takes the guy down with a couple of elbows to the face. By getting in that posture he can disable the first guy while also keeping an eye on other would-be attackers to make sure no one else rushes in before he's ready.
    When people tell me they are going to see the new Jack Reacher movie for the "five against one" scene, almost all of them say it reminds them of this scene:



    And here is an older example of a Tom Cruise scene that has a cult following for its sense of humor:



    These clips make me wonder what other iconic scenes in movies inspire people to go see the movies. How about asking people if there is a particular short scenes that got them to watch a movie?

Indeed, folks, that's next week's subject:
Tell us what scene had such an effect
    It made you watch a movie.
    And was the movie groovy,
Or one much better to neglect?

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Copyright © 2013 by Morris Dean

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