“What time is it?’
I glance at the clock.
“It’s 4:30 hun.”
“Really, already?” my husband questions.
“No, I’m lying to you,” I quickly retort.
I can hear his footsteps quicken as he comes to look at the clock himself.
“Cassie, 4:10 does not translate to 4:30.”
“Fine, 4:30-ish.”
“Really? Could you just say the time and NOT round up?!?”
“I really don’t see the problem with this,” I say.” It only makes us more punctual…”
My husband glares at me.
“Ok, punctual-ish,” I concede.
“Whatever, you have issues.”
PSH, like I really need to be told this!
See, this is a conversation that can be heard almost on a daily basis. I have a terrible tendency to round up to the nearest quarter, nay, half-hour when telling someone the time.
It’s not that I don’t recognize the time. I even register it, but, for whatever reason, I add to it.
Perhaps this stems from my undying love of math…
I totally just snorted my cake when I wrote that.
Anyways, it drives my husband batty! As in, he goes postal, catatonic, Chernobyl-esque.
But, I really don’t think it’s the rounding up that bothers him the most, no, in fact I think it’s my panache for inconstancy that really broils his butt.
Because the above?
Is only half the conversation.
“You went to Target today?” he questions while eyeballing the new package of toilet paper on the floor.
“Yup, it’s Firday,” I remind him, “errand day.”
“So how much did you end up spending?”
EEK, DANGER, DANGER, DANGER! SCARY QUESTION! PROCEED WITH CAUTION!
“Cass?” he furthers, “How much?”
“Oh, like eighty bucks give or take…” I let that last part sink in. Maybe I can use it as a shield later on?!?!
“Really?”
Crap, he knows.
“Mhmmm,” I answer.
“Really?”
“Dude, if you’ve already checked the bank account why bother asking me?!?”
I’m feeling a little cross.
“You said you spent like 80 when really you spent 140,” he informs me. “Why can’t you just give me straight answers?!?”
“Because I don’t wanna?”
I’m real mature.
“And anyways, I always do this! I always round down!” I squeal. “It’s not like this is something new!”
“Actually…” He trails off.
Crap, I’ve been had! Cornered like a little mouse.
The hands of a clock spinning in my face.
Laughing at my inadequacy to tell time.
“you always round up with time,” he finishes. “Can you just explain that to me? Explain to me why you always round up when giving me the time, but when it comes down to you telling me how much you spent you always round down. Just let me in on your thought process.”
He doesn’t want to be let in. It’s scary in here. I don’t really like to wander around too long. I think things in here bite.
“Umm, I suffer from a number disorder?”
“And that would be?”
“A fear of numbers.”
“Why are you afraid of numbers?”
I’m thinking, I’m thinking, I’m thinking…
“Because seven 8 nine?” I smile sheepishly at him.
This is when my husband usually mumbles something about me being a three-year-old and how I shouldn’t be allowed out by myself.
Look, I know I have problems… He’s just an ostrich about it.
I am participating in Mama Kat’s Losin’ It writing prompt #3: Something you do that drives your significant other CRAZY.
<a href=”http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/” target=”_blank”><img src=”http://i913.photobucket.com/albums/ac331/mamakatslosinit/workshop-button-1.png” alt=”Mama’s Losin’ It” />
You know I have the exact same problem as you 😀 especially with time…. Sometimes with money as well when I’ve spend it on crafting things that I dont want my hubs to know.
But luckily for me he’s never found it out [yet]…..
When your 2nd baby due? Hope you are doing ok..
Take care
HAHA lucky you! Mines on to me!
He was due on Sunday! Apparently he is taking up permanent residence inside my uterus lol!