*Husbandus Interruptus

The Crankee Yankee and I were driving somewhere the other day, and, just as I started talking about an issue with the house, he started talking about another subject all together.

Now, as I’ve stated in many posts, I despise being interrupted. Having someone talk over me in my book is just about as rude as someone helping themselves to food off your plate. They didn’t ask; they just reached over, grabbed your food and starting eating it without so much as a “may I?” As if you, the owner of the food, didn’t matter.

Before I reached a slow boil, I had a real “road to Damascus” epiphany; he talked over me because he didn’t realize (or hear) that I was speaking! My getting angry about that would be tantamount to me scolding a blind person for not seeing me.

Now I realize that we are both getting to the age where, if we don’t speak up, we may forget what we were going to say. As I realized this, my anger went away; he really did not hear that I was talking.      

So I told him what I had just learned. The poor guy; he knows how much I hate being interrupted, and he winced, saying, “sorry; I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Surprisingly, I wasn’t angry, because I had finally realized the real issue: when he has something to say he literally 1) has to say it right now or he’ll forget it, and 2) blocks everything else until he has said what he needs to say.

Now, this may sound like making an excuse for bad behavior, but actually it isn’t. It is one more step up the ladder of understanding a person you love.  The Crankee Yankee is simply wired that way. My complaining about this would be about as smart as complaining about our cats purring too loudly in our ears—it ain’t gonna happen.

Is it still irritating? Of course it is; we both know this. Does it mean that I am the only one in this relationship to make allowances? Nope—not at all. In this life-long game of marriage, I still have the right to say, ‘hey, you interrupted me! Tell me what you need to say, but remember that I get my turn next.”

But this is like playing Scrabble: you can play strictly by the rules on the back of the box and call the other player out when they don’t follow a specific rule, or: you can make up your own rules and have a great time. (After all, it’s not like the Scrabble police are sending drones out to check on all Scrabble players, 24/7!)

So with that knowledge, I can go forward from this and remember how the Crankee Yankee is wired. Trust me, it makes things a whole lot easier. Is it a “pass” for him to always interrupt? Certainly not. But at least it makes it a lot easier knowing that the interruptions are not meant to wound.

Plus the Crankee Yankee has to put up with all my quirks and foibles, of which there are many. He has to put up often with “*Wifus Irritabilius” Often.

*My apologies to my late and beloved Latin teacher in high school, Mr. Gerald Holden.


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