My husband is Eeyore in every way. He complains for everything. This past snow storm was no exception. First, was the eye popping, veins to the top of the skin reaction to “What if we lose power? How are we going to shovel the drive? How are we going to keep warm? What about the pipes? Two to three feet snow, this is ridiculous. We’ll get three with our luck.” I was exhausted even before the storm hit.
Then we slept and woke up to beauty. My husband stomped around irritated. My poor dog always shakes when he stomps around in his boots. I calmly got breakfast and then slipped into my snow gear. Outside was magical. I started shoveling. He came out and cursed at the snowblower. It started and he began to clear the driveway, then the yard. He either doesn’t like snow, or he loves using his snowblower. Our front yard is cleared of snow now.
Charlie comes over to me to complain that I am making more work for him, the way that I am shoveling. I dusted myself off and went inside. Ah warmth. I made lunch.
He comes inside mad that I am mad at him. “I’m not mad at you.” I say. He stomps away.
“There is no food in this house.” He complains. I have stopped trying to make food for him. Over the years his complaining of what I make has stopped me. Now he just complains that there is no food. I don’t make lunches for him either. I used to and he would take them to work and not eat them. Then he would leave them in their containers for weeks to rot. I would have to go buy new containers they were so bad. I’d make lunches and he’d go out to eat, so I’ve stopped. Now he complains that he is hungry for lunch. And starved when he gets home…which leads to the, “there is nothing to eat.”
His complaints are draining and don’t get me started on his long SIGHS. That is another post.
Thanks for listening!
Meghan
Finding Hope's Sunshine 