Or argue.

This four day weekend has been so much more productive than I hoped. Sure, the garage hasn’t been touched , but the yard is shaping up nicely. Plus, I made brownies.

These long work days tend to wear on a person after 20 minutes or so, but we’ve made it until Monday without a single flare up. Not a one!

Until this morning.

It wasn’t the flare up to end all flare ups, but still…it got pretty fucking good.

The amazing thing about this argument? Randy had NO IDEA we were even having one!

That’s how good I am.

I did not even need Randy to participate in an argument over a garbage bag.

For the past couple days, the house has been in a state of flux.

Since we’re doing yard work, we’re also having to do a lot of cleaning and re-cleaning inside as we go. There hasn’t been a bag in the kitchen garbage can for 3 days, just a big black bag on the floor and SOMEONE keeps laying their trash ON TOP of the bag, instead of opening the bag and putting their trash IN the bag. I had to clean coffee grounds off the floor and I made an announcement.

WHOEVER THE FUCK ISN’T OPENING THE GARBAGE BAG..CUT IT OUT.

They didn’t. I assumed it was the boy.

This morning, an energy drink sat on top of the garbage bag. It was Randy’s.

Me: It was YOU? You’ve been putting garbage on top of the bag?

Randy: It was mostly Joey.

And that was it. No one said anything else.

What a waste of perfectly good argument material. No way I was letting that go.

So, I sat and drank coffee while watching Randy clean the kitchen (putting trash IN the garbage bag instead of ON the garbage bag), I continued the argument in my head without him.

Randy, being COMPLETELY unreasonable: All you want to do is bitch. Bitch bitch bitch.

Me, showing patience and maturity considering what I had to deal with: Fuck YOU! Are you fucking kidding me? I’m bitching? You are getting all the way UP to the garbage bag. You are RIGHT THERE, yet you decide just dropping the shit is okay. So, you’re taking your garbage all the way to the bag and then leaving it there for ME to throw away. And I’m just bitching.

Randy: Don’t pick it up! Who says YOU have to pick it up.

Me, feeling like Mother Theresa: Well, if I DON’T throw it away, then it just falls on the floor when I OPEN THE BAG to put garbage IN the bag.

Randy: So?

Me, counting to zero: Are you fucking kidding me?

Randy: Don’t pick it up. Just tell me YOU want to throw something away and I’ll make sure the bag is clean for you.

Me, wondering how one applies for sainthood: That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. You are saying that you would rather ALMOST throw something away, walk away and then come back to COMPLETELY throw it away when I tell you to.

Pretend Randy agrees to this and goes on his way. COMPLETELY unsuspecting of the turn his imaginary afternoon was about to take.

He JUST closes the bathroom door: RANDY, GET THE TRASH OFF THE TRASH BAG PLEASE.

He’s cutting the lawn? Let’s wait until he’s sweating and in the far corner of the yard, and then I’ll need desperately to throw something else away.

You get where I’m going here. Whenever he gets immersed in something else, hold him to his end of the bargain.

Then, the imaginary argument picks back up.

Randy, all butthurt and about to accuse me of something I am actually doing: You’re doing this ON PURPOSE. You’re waiting for me to be doing something.

Me, being a little less saint-like: I am NOT. I’m trying to get things done around the house and…

And then the whole little fantasy falls apart.

First of all, because I was having a hard time coming up with scenarios where Randy would actually be throwing shit away that many times in an afternoon and also, while he can be stubborn, I can’t imagine he’d be THAT stubborn.

Besides, he DID just clean the kitchen and me made me coffee. So, I tell him about the argument he just had with me. I EXPECTED him to laugh about it, but no..instead:

Randy: Bitch bitch bitch. You just want to bitch.

Me: THAT is EXACTLY what you said in my pretend argument.

Randy: You know, there’s a simple solution. Just put a bag in the garbage can.

Me: YOU can put a bag in the garbage can, too. Why am I doing this?

Randy: It’s bothering YOU, it’s not bothering me.

Me: Or you could just NOT put garbage on TOP of the garbage bag.

And then the argument fizzled out again.

We hardly EVER let shit fizzle out that quickly. It was so painless that neither one of us needed any pouting time to get over it. This garbage bag fight just DIDN’T want to happen.

I’m counting this as a major holiday win. Now, if we can get through tomorrow, then this little mini working vacation will have been more of a success than I hoped.

We can get hot and sweaty and tired without arguing over stupid shit.

It took us both to get over the half century mark, but I think we might be maturing.

Just a little.