Travelling with the enemy

It has often been said that the two true tests of a relationship are:
1) Your ability to assemble IKEA furniture together
2) Your ability to travel together

In regards to the first test, She Who Must Be Obeyed and I have failed that test.

She is impatient with my stumbling efforts, convinced She knows best and ultimately She takes over and finishes the assembly herself.

So, we tried travelling to Sardinia together, eight days of 24 hours together.

Surprisingly, no murder or suicide!

(As yet!)

Day One, 27 July 2015:

Up at 0530.

A mistake.

She is NOT a morning person.

Clearly, opposites attract.

The reason grumpy people are grumpy in the morning is because of perky people, for perky people are not content with just being perky themselves, we have an almost religious zeal to spread this perkiness around, which one should NEVER do with a grumpy person.

I calmly and methodically organise myself.

She runs about like a panicked chicken ensuring all is planned, both with us and with all that we leave behind.

We check the stove and oven for the 14th time to ensure they are off.

We somehow still make our train to Kreuzlingen as well as our train to Zürich.

At the Zürich Hauptbahnhof, She suddenly gets the urge to buy a tea and a croissant, despite the TGV train to Basel (with its own restaurant car) leaving in only a few minutes time.

Train is packed, so I walk along the platform to locate an emptier wagon.

She returns to the platform and doesn’t immediately see me (which is surprising because I am a 6’5″ / 194 cm tall balding man in an old crofter’s cap and a bright red Roots rucksack).

She sees me finally and curses myself and my ancestry many generations removed.

Rule One: You are always wrong. Accept this.

We are husband and wife (or is that peasant and Queen?) so a shared bed is par for the course.

She sleeps like a mummified pharoah with all the blankets wrapped about her.

I am left with a pitiful tiny corner of a blanket.

Rule Two: Sleep separately, or bring your own separate sheets.

She drives fast and dangerous.

Speed limits are for losers.

I pray that God is merciful to me a wretched sinner as I am about to enter Paradise.

Rule Three: The driver is always right.

Each moment we waste searching for the millionth time for her wallet is time well spent.

Each moment spent waiting upon me is time a-wastin’.

Rule Four: Time’s value is measured differently by different people.

She uses my body as a footrest or pillow.

I am deemed too heavy for such an infraction.

Rule Five: Men are useful tools, but never let the tools set the tone.

She is one moment, Dr. Kerr, the next Ms. Hyde.

She calls me too emotional and sensitive.

Rule Six: Women are allowed emotional swings, men…not so much.

And that was just Day One…

I no longer wonder why one finds so many husbands alone in pubs or why men don`t live as long as women…

It’s because we choose to.


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