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Showing posts from May, 2014

How to Talk to your Husband...

Ok, so I know how to talk with my husband.  We do it all the time. We can talk anything nearly to death, other people’s parenting, religion, war, our families... - we basically have them all figured out. But, when real life hits, and there is no way to deny that the washing machine is truly fried, world war three threatens to erupt in the otherwise peaceful confines of our modest dwelling.  Why, you may ask, would two self-respecting, university educated adults, even bother with making war, not love, over something as clinically mundane as a washing machine?  The answer, my friends, is simple. I don’t know how to talk to my husband. We enter our battle ground armed with presuppositions, he assumes that I will never agree to own a front load washing machine, and I am horrified that he thinks that we only need a washing machine, and I am doomed to spend the rest of my days with a mismatched set, to be seen and judged by the masses...or, something like that.
So, in a nod to our good frie…