Except it started out that way.
Scott, who has been kind enough to take over the grocery shopping ever since his lay-off (I'm much more likely to cook it if I didn't have to shop for it, so this has been a HIGHLY appreciated switcheroo for me), came home from an HEB run this morning and set the canvas totes on the kitchen counters. I ambled in and starting putting things away.
Eventually my hand reached in the bag to grab the peanut butter and I immediately realized I had a choice.
I could point out the fact that he had bought the wrong kind, instead of the no stir/no mixing kind he'd picked up the ridiculously messy kind, the kind that you forget is the ridiculous oil-spill type until you've already opened it in a hurry one morning and splashed its oil all over the counter, onto the floor and most likely your big toe too. I could also point out the fact that I'd written specific notes regarding the type of peanut butter he was to purchase (while I stayed home) and that THIS WAS NOT THE RIGHT ONE.
Or I could keep my mouth shut and just put the peanut butter on the shelf in the pantry.
What do you think I did?
Almost 1.5 hours later, after raised voices, angry words, the airing of pent-up irritations, grievances (mostly imagined, few real) hurt feelings, oh...and even some tears (mine) (I know!), followed by some honest communication I felt much better. I think he did too.
It's been something of a double edged sword having all this time together because of his unemployment. Sometimes we see it as a blessing and other times we really get on each other's nerves, you know?
This morning's peanut butter fiasco was obviously one of the latter.
One of these days I will learn to hold my tongue, keep my criticisms to myself, show more appreciation and give up trying to be right.
One of these days. With God's help.
But look what my guy came home with a while later, just because he's a good guy and wanted to make me happy. He's a keeper.
(Okay, maybe it was a teensy-tiny bit about the peanut butter after all.)