I have proof—proof, I tell you—that he annoys me on purpose.
And I don’t just mean the way he laughs after he’s done it.
Although, now that you mention it… that should have been your first clue. Really, now I’m kind of pissed at you for not believing me all this time when you’ve watched him work my nerves and then laugh about it.
Let’s move on before I decide you deserve a beating, m’kay?
Location: my study. I am trying, amidst the fog of greyhound farts and noise of scampering cats and one teenager who can’t move without thumping around like he’s throwing furniture, to write without distraction. The phone rings and I’ve had enough; I switch my skype to Do Not Disturb and turn the music up.
HIM: (comes downstairs, pops into the study)
ME: (looking up, exasperated) What.
HIM: I… I was going to just skype you but you’re on Do Not Disturb.
ME: So you came down—
HIM: Well you asked me a question earlier and now I can’t answer it!*
ME: (takes deep breath) You can still send messages, they just don’t interrupt and annoy me.
ME: Did you seriously come interrupt me because you saw that I was on Do Not Disturb?
I ask you, is this the act of a loving, supportive man who wants to stay married?
* I did ask him a question… an hour before I went on DND. It was about whether or not I could order a book. Not. Urgent.