Posted on Monday, August 29, 2005
100 Reasons Why I Feel Completely Neutral About My Husband
I promise you that this isn’t going to be a blog about how much I hate my husband—two reasons: first, Christine already writes that blog, and it’s fascinating. Reading it is as irresistible as slowing down to get a good look at a car crash on the side of the interstate. You want to smugly believe that something like that could never happen to you, but there’s always that little needling voice reminding you, “There but for the grace of God.” One of these days I intend to learn how to install a blog roll on this page so you can see what I mean for yourself (sorry I’m such a beginner!). Second: I don’t hate my husband. Not even remotely. Think of your neediest, most high-maintenance house plant. Do you hate it? Of course not. It may be messy, droopy, or otherwise irritating, but certainly not to the degree of inspiring hate. It’s hard to hate something as passive as a houseplant.
On the other hand, it’s hard to love a house plant too.
My husband is a houseplant in all ways but one. A ficus tree, like my husband, is passive. My husband, unlike a ficus tree, is passive aggressive. I’ve yet to meet a passive aggressive ficus tree.
I’ve met a couple of maples with bad attitudes, but that’s another story.
Aha! A husband in severe need of pruning. Unfortunate thing, Matilda. Good luck.