Ummm… Are Ya Listening, Babe?

I love my husband.  I do.  But honest to goodness, if he doesn’t only half listen to me about half of the time.  By that I mean that in any conversation, he has selective listening skills.  Or, selective memory, I’m not sure which.  Does this happen to anyone else?  ‘Cause if so, I’d really like to know about it.  Just to know that I am not alone.

Here are just a couple of today’s examples…  I called him at work, which is always a tricky proposition anyway, since he does about 80% of his work on the phone at the same time he’s doing the other 20% online.  He’s often on a conference call, and unless I know exactly when those calls are scheduled (which I hardly ever do) I’m rolling the dice as to whether he’s going to answer or not if I call.  Usually, he calls me, but today, I just needed to hear my man’s voice.  So I called.  He answered.   And in the course of a very short conversation two specific things were discussed.  First, that some money needed to be paid tonight at our son’s Boy Scout meeting.  When I inquired whether it had already been paid last week, he said something to the effect that “No, I’ll stop and get some cash on my way home.”  Great!  Like the Staples  commercial, I’m thinking, “That was easy.”

Second, I mention how absolutely bummed I am that after spending over an hour washing the car yesterday, it rained today.

Sidebar:  Why does it always rain when you wash the car?  Did Murphy make that one a law too?

So, he asks if I have to go anywhere today.

“Nope, not till tomorrow.”

“Then it should be able to stay clean.”

“Sure,” I say hopefully, “unless you were going to take it to Scouts tonight.”

“Oh, no problem, I can take the truck so your car will stay clean.”

Again, I’m thinking, “That was easy.”

Because he has to leave tonight for Scouts almost as soon as he gets home, things are a little harried right off the bat.  And this is what it boils down to as he’s walking out the door…

“Hey,” he shouts over the din as I’m cleaning up after dinner, “did you write a check for me to take to Scouts tonight?”

HUH? I thought we’d gone over that…  What about stopping to get cash?  When did it stop being about him taking care of it, and become something I needed to do?  This is definitely a classic case of his selective listening/memory.

Or, am I really just losing my mind?  I don’t think so, because after all, I am the family calendar/grocery list/address book and all sorts of other things that, even though they might require a list (which I do tend to use a lot) I still have a steel trap on remembering those kinds of things.  So it would stand to reason that if I can remember my friend Mandy’s parents’ phone number from when I was in high school, I conceivably should be able to remember a conversation that I had less than 3 hours ago!

So, with a quick “Love ya!” he heads out the door, as I call out a “Love ya too!” toward his back as I wipe off the island countertop.

“Bliss,” I think, heading upstairs to soak in a nice hot bath.  And as I round the corner to the stairs, I glance out the front door.  Just in time to see him riding off into a sunset obscurred by a horizon of rain clouds in the shiny, spotless, spankin’ clean car that he had promised to leave at home.


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