This is a guest post from Sparky. He can found spreading his wisdom at Spark in Darkness.
Sparky is firmly of the belief the world was created for his own amusement - it’s the only reason it can be so diverting. He spends most of the day alternating between being vastly amused and vastly irritated by the world and much of his energy laughing at it or fighting against it. He is eternally distracted, amused and inspired by his loving husband, boggling family and his truly bizarre law firm.
I find myself somewhat of an artist at this. It seems there are no end of minor things I can do that will drive Beloved to plot my death by porcupines in many imaginative and detailed manners.
Or, as I much rather prefer to phrase it, it’s amazing how many perfectly acceptable and reasonable things I do that he, quite ridiculously and maliciously, takes an exception to. Alas, I am truly a saint to tolerate such.
Around me these battles tend to wage around Beloved’s love of technology and my suspicion of any and all things electrical. Technologically minded I am not - my computer works because there are pixies in the case (it is known) and my television has tiny people inside acting for my pleasure. Beloved insists on surrounding me with technology to which I respond with all the fervour of a rabid luddite with a very large hammer. This vexes him.
In particular he is vexed that I keep turning off my firewall, virus checker and weird safety-searchy thingy (what, you expect me to know the name of this thing? It’s turned off most the time). Because they slow my computer down. Yes yes they do. Beloved rather vociferously disagrees and points out that the many many virus laden trojans plastered with pop-up adds infecting my computer may have something to do with it. I have decided he is wrong (naturally).
My second shameful habit is remote abuse. A note here on Beloved’s shiny addiction - our television, satellite and DVD player have remotes. This is reasonable. So does our stereo. So do our outside lights. So do our wall lights. So does the damned water feature. So does our central heating. Trying to turn over the television frequently results in a psychedelic light show with accompanying music, hot air vents and gets of water. This vexes me.
When one of the remotes I actually want to use dies, I will happily raid the others for batteries (putting the dead batteries in the useless remote, of course. Well, I don’t want to leave them lying untidily on the coffee table, do I?) Beloved has taken an unreasonable dislike to this and suggests I should get some of the fresh batteries we always have stored in the kitchen. I counter that if I were in the mood to stir my backside from the sofa cushions I wouldn’t have picked up a remote in the first place. Oh and I also hide.. err.. lose the remotes I have no interest in. Just because.
My third (admitted) shameful habit concerns plugs. As can be guessed by now, Beloved has something of a fetish for electrical appliances. Our tin-opener plugs in. Our corkscrew plugs in. Our wine cooler plugs in. Our Aquarium full of suicide fish plugs in. We even have plug-in picture frames - in the name of all that is holy why do picture frames need a main’s supply?! There are so many games consoles clustered around the television that I am quite confident they are breeding in some perverse cross-platform orgy. Every wall socket in our house has 4 gangs and 3 ways and dual sockets (all of which sounds far kinkier than it actually is, alas) clustered together in a way that is bound to set something on fire eventually.
I deal with this by unplugging things. At random. Sometimes to plug in something I actually need, like, say, a hair dryer. Or a kettle. Sometimes because having 6,872 plugs in one socket seems rather unwise. For some reason most of these devices seem to resent being unplugged and my doing so causes them to forget the time, be reset to defaults, lose information or dissolve dilithium crystals and explode the flux capacitor. I don’t know, I also have immense difficulty caring since I’m rather more concerned by burning to death in a not-so-mysterious electrical fire.
It occurs to me that if I continue recounting the many irritating things I do on a regular basis just to make Beloved howl that this post would be ridiculously long - so over to you. What maddening, irritating (or perfectly sensible and reasonable) thing do you do that makes the other members of your household plot your horrible death?