You guys are a vicious, catty bunch; I realize that. Passing judgement, criticizing at every opportunity. I know you think I'm evil, wrong, a bad parent and a bad person, maybe even a criminal and a lunatic. But I swear, it's not all my fault. If you could see the hell I deal with every day, the sheer insanity I put up with in this house, you'd have a lot more sympathy for my flaws.

Case in point:

This is a photograph of what my husband considers a properly cooked bowl of oatmeal.
No, your eyes aren't deceiving you--it does indeed have the consistency of puke soup. He puts a couple of scoops of perfectly good oatmeal into a bowl, drowns it in a pony keg of milk, and microwaves it for a split second and voila! A bowl of slop that looks like something you'd expect to eat in a POW camp.

This is the kind of absurdity I deal with every day. Was he raised by a roving band of gypsies who subsisted on gruel and bread crusts? Does he think this is normal, acceptable behavior? Or is he really trying to drive me mad? I suspect it's the latter. I think he has devised an elaborate scheme to repeatedly commit small acts of absurdity in the hopes that over time he will be able to drive me to complete hystseria.

The man can't be reasoned with. I've tried to explain to him that this is what properly cooked oatmeal should look like: It should be one solid mass that you have to break into chunks with a knife. It should be so thick and gummy that your jaw aches from chewing it. It should be cooked to a point of dryness normally seen only in attic insulation. You should be able to turn the bowl upside down without the slightest resulting movement from the oatmeal itself. Washing the bowl afterward should require the use of a jackhammer and a bottle of adhesive remover. But he just stands there as I explain this, blinking his eyes at me in silence, as if I'm the crazy one. Then he slinks off to slurp up his curds and whey, either unaware or unconcerned that all across America, nursing homes are packed to the rafters with the toothless elderly who are eating the exact same meal.

Why is he doing this to me? I have a theory that he plans to drive me to the point of dementia, then have me committed to a lockdown mental institution so he can have complete control of the TV at all times. But I am not to be underestimated. I will devise my own plan to drive him crazy first, whereupon I will have him committed, and I will have free reign to leave all the kitchen drawers and cabinets open, and leave the toilet paper roll off the holder.

The challenge, of course, will be how to drive him batty. It won't be easy, because by nature I am an incredibly reasonable, agreeable person, loved and admired by all. A pillar of society. Therefore, it will be difficult for me to consciously attempt to behave in ways that a person might find objectionable or unreasonable. It comes so easy for Brian, but it will be a real challenge for me. But you'll see; I'll rise to the occasion.

Labels: I'm sane--the world is crazy, The Karlababble Household