When Bubba and I met, we each had years of experience loading dishwashers. The thing is, we didn’t load them the same way. And since each of us was sure “our” way was the “right” way, we had to deal with some relationship hiccups as we figured things out.
Routine aspects of life give me regular opportunities to “figure things out.” That usually means trying to understand the inner voices that chirp away when, for instance, I see Bubba do something my Inner Judge insists is just not right.
Maybe he’s putting forks into the dishwasher tines-down.
“The tines won’t get properly washed!” The Judge says, absolute in her declaration.
Continue reading “The Judge and the Dishes”
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A song came on Pandora, a recent country hit. Two verses played before she stomped across the room and hit the “thumbs down” button. Her ex-boyfriend had previously “liked” it.
Bubba ordered four slices of bacon at the meat counter yesterday. The butcher picked and packed and wrapped and handed him his parcel. He paid, brought it home, and tucked it in the fridge.