Why Do Salt Flecks on the Kitchen Counter Drive Me Crazy?
The tale of a ridiculous relationship peeve — and getting over it
I wiped up salt flecks from the kitchen counter, my husband’s constant souvenir of meal preparations. For years, the sight of random salt bits scattered across the butcher block surface made me as angry as a bear. ROAR! I’d stand on my hind legs, mouth open, bellowing my disapproval.
Why the hell couldn’t he wipe his shit down afterwards!
Over time, this question started to creep in: Why did I care?
Why did I, upon returning home from work to a husband who greeted me with a huge smile and a prompt kiss, choose to give the goddamn kitchen counter more of my focus than my gorgeous love-partner?
Days, weeks, months, and years passed. Still, salt flecks on the kitchen counter. Still, me getting irked to an unnecessary degree.
I knew my kitchen counter reaction was optional, but I remained full-on in it.
I bitched to my friend Laurie on a walk through Pioneer Park. Laurie is the kind of friend with whom you can share all the external/internal goings-on in life, put them under a light, and see them from all angles until you are cracking up at the ridiculousness of the entire situation.
