Oooohhhhhh, please, please, please, I beg of you. Please, call my husband and explain to him that there are those of us who say what we mean; mean exactly what we say; AND DO NOT HAVE ANY EFFIN SUBTEXT.
There is no need for deciding or translating. And there is REALLY no fucking need to tell ME what I REALLY meant.
Actually, it’s way too late.
I hit the end of my tether with this some time ago and I have been running loose, screaming like a banshee ever since.
I am relieved that somebody gets how gawd awful this is.
A perfect example from Sunday. Just to set the scene. I buy wild songbird food for our feeder and they go berserk for it. Best buffet in town. We like watching them. We even added a bird bath. Then, after some reading, I decided we needed to add a fountain to get the birds interested.
So, they’re going through a lot of chow.
Then there is this guy. Rocket J Squirrel.
I noticed the feeder was empty. I said (exact words) “The feeder is empty”.
Cue instant explosion and immediate defensive strike. I already fed them THREE TIMES TODAY. I ONLY EAT THREE TIMES A DAY”.
“All I said was that the feeder is empty”.
Aaaannnddd, here it comes.
I know what you REALLY MEANT.
What I really meant, but, could not possibly have articulated, was: GET OFF YOUR LAZY ASS AND FILL THE FEEDER!
I meet with my new therapist on Monday.
Separating will be a slog.
In case anyone is wondering why I didn’t just go fill the damn thing myself; I can’t reach it. He hung it too high. He does that sort of thing all. the. time.