Since June 29, 1985 Devin has had this crazy idea that he is the boss of me. And since that time, I have played this fun little game with him that goes something like this. He acts like he’s the boss of me, and everything down Rohr Road, and I let him think he really is. It’s a pretty fun game. I’m thinking about developing it to a board game and submitting a prototype to Hasbro. I am convinced I could make millions.
You may be thinking, how exactly is he bossing me around? We’ll let me put it this way, 99.9999999999% of the time it involves money…the spending of money, the saving of money and the wasting of money. He does not, nor has he ever tried to tell me where to go, what to do, how to act or what to wear. But when I comes to money, he’s kinda bossy. A real shocker right? For those of you who are new to this blog and are not familiar with my story, I am married to the worlds tightest man. Now don’t get me wrong, while he is Mr. wonderful most of the time, his need to control anything that involves money, makes me want to pinch his head off and spit in the hole! As of late, his chief complaint Has been our utility and phone bills.
I frequently hear statements like…
“How long has he been in the shower?”
“Hurry up and shut the door! You’re letting all the bought air out!”
“Who touched the thermostat?”
“when I drove up the house was lit up like a Christmas tree! Lets turn off about a hundred of these lights!”
“How long has she been on that phone?”
“Are you done with the oven?”
Then periodically, he will get the cell phone bill out, open it up and enlighten each of us on how many texts we had for the month, how many calls we made and the amount of data we used.
While I can understand his need to tell the kids what they can do or not do regarding water, heat, air, doors, windows, lights and cell phone usage, I don’t understand where he got the idea that he can tell ME what to do! Even though I disagree with his strict usage rules, I don’t rant and rave and throw a fit. No, I just listen politely to his instruction and follow them to a tee…until he leaves the house that is. Remember? He acts like he is the boss of me, and I let him think he is 😉
Yesterday morning, as soon as his tail lights were out of sight, I immediately went to the thermostat and moved it from its normal 72° setting to whatever it took for the heat to come on. I didn’t really pay attention to the number…I just cranked it till I heard it fire up. There are a few things in the world that I hate. I hate math, cockroaches, going to the dentist, heights, sensible shoes, a clothes hanger hanging on a door knob, being scared and being cold! I really, REALLY hate being cold, and as the giver of life, the washer of clothes, the cooker of food, the driver of kids, and an all around wonderful person, I think I deserve to be warm in my own home. So when Devin, the master of the thermostat, leaves the house…I adjust it accordingly, then about thirty minutes before he comes back home I move it back to its ridiculously cold setting of 72°. It’s the perfect plan.
He thinks he’s the boss of me
I let him think he is
He tells me what to do
I don’t do it
He doesn’t know I don’t do it
He thinks the thermostat is set at 72°
He is happy
I am cold so I move it to 78°
Now I am happy 😉
It works for us. Until I forget to turn it back down before he gets home…like yesterday.
Every time I break the rule and adjust the thermostat I remind myself, “don’t forget to put it back before he gets home.” well, yesterday I forgot…like an idiot!
As soon as he walked in the back door he said, “whew! Man it’s hot in this house.” When I heard those words come out of his mouth I thought, uh oh! I forgot to fix the heat back! He walked in, went straight to the thermostat, tilted his head back slightly looking through the bottom of his bifocals and shook his head. “Who’s been messing with the heat?”, he said with all the authority of a dictator. I stood as tall as I possibly could, with my chin held high and my spine stiffened, and said, “I did because I was cold!” He shot me a grin, shook his head slightly and said, “Tonya, Tonya, Tonya…the thermostat stays at 72°.” “Who says?”, I questioned. “I do”, he replied. “Who says you get to be in charge of the heat anyway? You’re not the boss of me ya know?”, I said firmly. He smiled and said, I know I’m not boss of you but I’m sort of the boss of the thermostat. “Who says?”, I asked. He began to stutter and stammer, looking to the left and right of me but never in my eyes. “well…it’s just sort of always been that way…since I pay the bills…I think I should control the thermostat.” “No!” I said, “that’s a stupid rule!” I think I should be in control of it if I’m going to be home all day cooking and cleaning! It’s ridiculous that I should freeze in my own house because you don’t want me to touch the heat!” He reached over and gave me a hug in attempt to defuse the situation and whispered, “you just need to wear warmer clothes and leave the thermostat at 72°…that’s plenty warm.” I rolled my eyes and stood there limply while he tried to hug me and laughed softly.
Not a lot had changed. He still wasn’t the boss of me and I was not moved by his boyish charm…well maybe a little. He is Mr. wonderful after all.
And so tomorrow, if I get cold, I will crank up the heat, just like I have always done, but next time I will not forget to set it back. And we will go back to playing the game of, who’s the boss?