Daniel tries to put his shoes away, but Sammie goes and gets in them. And leaves toys in them for him.

I'd complain about the stuff Daniel leaves out, but then there's as much of my crap laying around, so it would just be whinging. Especially as he was apologizing yesterday for not doing the dishes, when I'm pretty sure it was my turn.

but I also don't leave them at the foot of the stairs where they can cause someone to TRIP AND DIE.

Better at least than at the top of the stairs, where someone could trip, roll, make a huge lot of unpleasant noise, land badly, groan for an unspecified length of time, and THEN die. Or possibly fail to die but become incapacitated and lose employment, become a burden, and blame you till the end of his days.

We have a shoe corral. And are obsessive about using it. Even though we live in a one-story house.

Jessica, it occurs to me to wonder whether he truly doesn't get that there's a difference or if he prefers the good stuff and is trying to pass off the bagged stuff to you (I've spent a lot of time dealing with passive-aggressive nonsense, so this could be just me).

Oh no, not even a remote chance. He really just doesn't notice certain things about food that are like giant neon signs to me.

(I do realize that thinking "Seriously, mixing up Satur Farms and Earthbound Farms? How is that even POSSIBLE???" puts me well beyond the tipping point into rabid crazy green-freak, BUT STILL.)

Jess, I use a formula for that kind of thing based on 1) how much I care and 2) how often does it happen.

Ha - I do the same thing. In this case I don't care so much about this one salad, but I do care very much about buying local/sustainable in general, and it's a huge blind spot for DH and it drives me maaaaaaaaaaaaad.

The everyday workable solution is simply to let me be in charge of food-procurement for the household, which works perfectly until he decides to be helpful and buys the wrong thing. I have such textbook gatekeeping issues regarding my kitchen. But I'm working on it, I swear!

Better at least than at the top of the stairs, where someone could trip, roll, make a huge lot of unpleasant noise, land badly, groan for an unspecified length of time, and THEN die.

In my family we use dogs for that.

Well, no one ever died. But the rest applies.

puts me well beyond the tipping point into rabid crazy green-freak, BUT STILL.

Sounds totes normal to me!

I seem to be relaxing my "I won't apply to schools in the middle of nowhere" standards. I just applied to one that advertises that it's 90 miles from Sioux Falls, SD.

Tep, not to worry...since I got that virus last summer, I've turned security up to 11. When I told Mom that, I forgot that she didn't like Spinal Tap so she asked me "Really? Do they assign number to it?"ETA: Hil, now I'm picturing you trying to make a minyan with a bunch of farmers like Dr. Fleischman...it's funny, apart from the off-screen relative of yours I just bumped off.

I think I just told my mom that I can't handle the pressure of the arranged marriage process and would try to find someone on my own, and I think she said that, okay, then I would have to start going to Indian functions and mingle and meet people, and I said okay, and I think she went for it? I don't know. I think we've had this conversation before, and it hasn't stuck. My dad called a few minutes later and I didn't pick up because I didn't want to be double-teamed.

Also, have a snippet of conversation:

"What are you having for dinner?"
"I don't know. Probably some rice with ground turkey thing."
"See, if you had a wife, you wouldn't have to worry about cooking."
"Yes, because that's what wives are for."
"Exactly!"
"That's all they're good for."
"Well, not all. They're good for other things too. Like...company."

I'm such a shithead button pusher, I probably would have tossed in something about the occasional blow job, too. But I'm frequently an asshole.