Welcome to my latest publication of Domestic Chaos Theory…
The Curse of Introversion. My wife is not a big fan of introversion. From her POV, it is a disease. Like schizophrenia. Or dementia. Or wearing socks with sandals. And yet, I continue to exist.
Thermostat Battles. We used to live in Connecticut. When we were there, my wife claimed that she LOVED the winters. Sledding. Skating. Hot chocolate in the evenings. Now that we live in California, I’m starting to think that version of my wife was simply an apparition. It is as if the lousy 6-hour United flight magically turned her into a Faberge egg. Because she is now fragile. Stunningly so. Or maybe she’s simply trying to fit in. In California a forecast of light rain triggers an AMBER alert. Where did all the original pioneers go?
Because I now live in California, I naturally wear the same outfit year-round. Shorts and a T-shirt. My wife, by contrast, has been unable to shake her East Coast programming. She still dresses for the seasons. This doesn’t present a problem, except when we’re required to share a common space. Like a car. I’m dressed for the beach. Her outfit suggests she’s prepped for a polar beat hunt. Makes it kind of hard to agree on the appropriate temperature for the car’s thermostat. I blast the heat. She rolls down the windows. I know. It’s stupid. And I’m very cold.
Pointless Backup Plans. I manage our finances. So, understandably, my wife asked me to write down all of our financial information in case something happens to me. I did so. And put it in an envelope. Unfortunately, she lost the envelope. Can’t remember where she put it. She suggested I reprint the info and put it in our safe. I did so. Then, I asked her if she knew the combination to the safe. She says she forgot. Wants me to write it down and put it in an envelope for her. It is really the circle of life. At this point, I feel like our financial information would be just as secure if I put it in a bottle and threw it in the ocean.
MY FAMILY’S POV
My wife agrees with the introversion bit completely. She’s an extrovert. I’m apparently an introvert (because I’ve been known go to a movie or a sporting event by myself and why would any normal person do that?)
She is quite proud of the fact that, even as an introvert (her diagnosis), I am able to function capably at social events. She takes 100% of the credit for that development, as if she somehow coached me to success. As if I were a feral cat that she domesticated. Or Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady. Fine. I’ll give her that win.
She’s also pretty good with my stories about temperature tolerances and finances. With regard to temperature, why shouldn’t the world rotate around her? Same with finances. It isn’t like she asks me to cook our meals or even dress myself. Why should I begrudge going to the extra effort to manage our finances?
FINAL THOUGHTS
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If you happen to be reading this within Substack itself (not just as an email), I would absolutely love a comment and a restack.
Thanks!
Love the humorous truth in your writing ❤️
Envelope is gold!