It's all about attitude, baby

The other night before going to bed I noticed that Liam had left his bread out on the table (I call it his bread because is the bag of heels that Nicholas and I have snubbed and left in the freezer). As I wrapped it back up and put it back in the freezer, I had an image pop into my head: I'm 75 years old and hobbling around the house putting bread away and picking up dirty socks.

Now, for anyone who doesn't know Liam and his domestic-type habits, here's a little snapshot. After he eats a sandwich, the bread is left out on the counter beside the mustard and the margarine (both with their lids off), every drawer and cupboard that he has used is left open, and his dirty plate is still on the counter. Oh, and Liam is gone, never to be seen again.

Back to the story at hand...I put the bread away and came upstairs to Liam who was in the computer room with this image of myself still picking up after him fresh in my mind. Halfway up the stairs I realized that I could look at all of this in one of two ways: I could get annoyed at his constant absentmindedness and dread this aspect of our shared life for the next however many years to come, or I could just get over it and accept that this is the way he is. I realized that I'm really not all that interested in being a grumpy bitch for the rest of my life. That's what pregnancy and PMS were made for.

I walked into the computer room and told Liam about my experience and I was laughing so hard I more fell on him than hugged him as I meant to. As I explained how I figured I could choose to deal with his foibles or divorce him he sat very still. I think he was trying to figure out which one I was leaning towards.

I think I'll stick with picking up behind him. After all, he gives awesome back rubs and I'll need someone to change all those stinky diapers that are soon coming out way.