Strife with Husband and Wife

There are a remarkable number of things that I do that absolutely infuriate my husband.

If you're reading this blog, I'm assuming you're aware of my distinct lack of maternal instincts. I'm sure that someday Peter and I will have children, but that day is far in the future. The idea of getting pregnant honestly gets me into ugly-cry hysterics, the most recent of episodes happened just yesterday while my husband stroked my hair and wiped my tears and told me I wasn't pregnant, and I will continue to not be pregnant until the time comes when we're ready for spawn.
That being said, the concept of names is so interesting to me. When you become a parent you have this overwhelming amount of power to give the child its identity! Therefore, I am CONSTANTLY looking up baby names. I had one girls name that I absolutely loved picked out for about 3 years, but it has been gaining popularity which only makes it my obsession and life mission to find a replacement favourite name.
"But you don't even WANT kids!" Peter will yell at me in a fit of exasperation after I have asked his opinion on another dozen possible names.
"I KNOW." I scream back, "YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND."
And, to be fair, he really doesn't, because I don't honestly understand it. It's just a thing.

Another aggravating thing for Peter is when I'll ask his opinion and do just the opposite of what he suggests. Last Sunday we were at a church potluck,
"Do I want more chilli?" I asked him, "or straight for dessert?" While this was a simple enough question, that I really truly wanted my husband's input on, as I asked, my eyes travelled to the dessert table where I locked eyes on the most beautiful cheesecake I have ever seen. This cheesecake was flawless, and it needed to be mine, there was no way that I could risk someone eating it while I was working on chilli and rice.
Faintly registering in the back of my mind that Peter had responded, "you want chilli first" to my inquiry, I firmly stated, "I need cheesecake" and headed off to cut myself a slice.
When I returned to the table, Peter demanded,
"Why do you even ask my opinion if you're just going to do what you want anyway?" and went on to have a conversation with the rest of the table about when their spouse does this to them, because apparently it's a common thing for all marriages to suffer under, while I ate my new found love.
Honestly, I can understand his frustration, but, Pagglecakes, it's CHEESECAKE.

This morning Peter realized that I had tried to end our marriage once and for-all when I was attempting to tidy our apartment.
I have been home sick from work since yesterday by the wonderful silver lining of my job which is: when your client gets you sick, he needs to stay home and you're not needed, so you both get to suffer from whatever plague you are sharing, but at least you're resting while you do so.
This morning I woke at 2am with a chainsaw hack of a cough and so moved to the living room to try and avoid waking Peter (hashtag: I'm such a good wife). When 5am hit and I was still awake I gave it up for a bad job and busied myself tidying the side of my bed where some envelopes and papers lay. I found a return-to-sender wedding announcement we had sent to a friend, my new car insurance cards, my pay stub, and something from the Honolulu department of health. I tossed the announcement, replaced my insurance cards, checked and filed my pay stub, and looked over the Honolulu letter. My brain told me, this isn't important, we're married now, because, honestly, the paper looked completely useless to me, so I tossed it in the trash.
Hours later, after Peter had woken and we had breakfast and snuggled and showered and all that fun stuff, he reached for the trash to take it out on his way to campus (how helpful is my husband?)
"Melly!" he yells at me. I look up to see him holding the paper that I had taken care of (with out even being asked, mind you).
"What?" I ask
"THIS IS OUR MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE. WHY DID YOU THROW IT AWAY?"
"It didn't look... important?" I offer, while simultaneously laughing at the fact that I had attempted to dispose of the legal document proving we're husband and wife.
"There's something for you to write on Facebook," he mutters while he ties up the bag, "better yet, blog about how you threw away our marriage certificate."

So here I am, blogging about how my husband adores me. :) He really does. We're so totally happy. Minus the fact that I am obsessed with finding the perfect name, I never take his advice, and I tried to file for divorce today using our trashcan.

I LOVE YOU, PAG!