A Month Late Birthday Ode of Gratitude

Anthony's birthday was September 22nd so I had started to write this post many weeks ago. Then the date came and went and shelf exam and change of rotation piled on... 

Then I discovered the Handmaid's Tale on Hulu...

Then the latest shooting/natural disaster/general impending doom of the world reared its head and during tough times we're supposed to always remember those we love. So, really I'm not late, per se, but rather timed for ultimate comfort! 

For Anthony's birthday I did something birthday-y, cheap and convenient: I bought a giant dollar store banner, a nice card, and made a scavenger hunt of 27 pieces of his favorite candies throughout the apartment. 

It was very cute, all for under $15. Wife win! 

Of course, I topped it with something extra birthday-y: accidentally breaking one his favorite wine glasses hand blown and especially ordered from Romania: (Definitely more than $15).

Now, this would be a harmless accident if things like this didn't happen all the time in the Argento household. He many not be the perfect husband, but I think he clearly deserves some credit for putting up with me. 

So, as a very belated birthday gift, here's an ode of gratitude. Though let's be honest, it's more of a listing of all the ways I've made him a better man. 🙂

Next time you see him, feel free to congratulate him on the achievement of another year of my shenanigans.

To my dear husband, the reasons why I'm grateful for you:

1. Although you don't like to, you let me make a big deal out of your birthday every year

Even if I accidentally create a small household fire with the cake. 

2. You live with notoriously lazy and never complain.  

My mother spent a considerable amount of my childhood concerned for my ability to manage a household given my sheer laziness and defiance towards housework. In the 5-year history of our relationship, I've never dusted, vacuumed, cleaned a floor or bathroom. 

One time I tried to help. I read a DIY article on oven-cleaning solutions. I misread the recipe and used dish soap at a concentration 20x higher than what it called for. It took him over 6 hours to scrub and rinse off the endless soap. I didn't help. 

3. You've accepted you share a bed with a truly disgusting person 

Single Giselle can most accurately be described by Foul Bachelorette Frog. She was my spirit animal. Well, she IS my spirit animal. Here are three situations that have literally occurred in the last year: 

  

Thankfully I have this partner ensures I have clean clothes, when I'd rather Febreeze everything. He even puts up with stains from the cadaver guts in anatomy and spilled food. True fact: I have never gone a meal without spilling food on myself. Not once. 

On the personal hygiene front it's even worse. I have a complete aversion to showers. Washing hair is annoying and the whole moisturizing routine after wards. ughhh. 

As a kid, I would lock myself in the bathroom and put a broom under the running water as I slept so everyone thought I was showering. If left to my own devices I can stretch a solid week between showers. Anthony has literally carried me into the shower in clothes more than once. Seriously.

But even when I won't even do that and my stink is so bad I'm banned from sleeping on the bed, he is still willing to cuddle me on the floor. 

4. You find an annoying roommate endearing 

We have a small apartment and I am an awful annoying person when he's trying to work. He's rarely fazed by it and usually joins me in my antics whether they be food fights, DIY projects or long long long rants about school.

I used to say the reason for renting an office was for 'quiet place to study by myself'. But if we're honest, it was really so I could leave the poor man alone. 

Case in point: once I went to a children's birthday party where the favors were little stamps in the form of paws. Guess who was my stamp pad as he tried to watch lectures?

5. You don't question the bills I send you

We keep separate bank accounts but I manage shared expenses. About once a month I look through statements and send him a bill for his part. That ritual usually consists of me looking at the transactions of the month and comparing them to the budget....

Then, I gather my (totally objective) listing of 'shared' expenses and type a bill. Of course those $85 at Target were "household supplies". And to top it off, I harass him until he pays. 

6. You've accepted an SJW spamming your inbox 

I was a proud Sociology major in undergrad. I'm indignant, dramatic, crazy 'Social Justice Warrior' or as Urban Dictionary defines: 

Anthony on the other hand likes to play devil's advocate, constantly question my Utopian ideals. So what do I do? 

Spam his inbox with all kinds of links and rants and one time he made a comment about the "biological differences between men and women" I filled his inbox with Jezebel articles and made him wear this shirt:

7. You always share your food

Giselle eating a snack: 

Anthony eating a snack: 

8. Probably because of hanger (and hadness) 

The number of times I repeat this apology is kind of embarrassing. I have the reactive hypoglycemia of a toddler. The hanger is really bad with me. If it's not anger it's total absolute sadness. Believe me, it's much better to give your food than deal with hungry Giselle. You just can't win unless you feed me. 

9. You are understanding of the consequences of sleep deprivation

It's safe to say sleep deprivation is not a fun thing. Now for a lover of naps like me it's almost unbearable. Let me walk you through a typical day coming home when I've gotten insufficient sleep. 

First the arrival: 

The denial:  

Then the sadness: 

The acceptance: 

The defeat: 

The Giselle-ism: 

Do you know what happens when you're half-asleep and throw your daily contacts towards the garbage from the bed? 

99% of the time they end up dried and stuck to the wall, the effort it takes to scrub off I hear is terrible. Apparently it can scrape off paint. 

This ode also serves as a pre-apology, next week I start my surgery rotation. Two months of 5am start times, 80 hours a week, mean attendings criticizing you all day everyday. Brace yourself, love.   

10. You live with depression even when it's not your own. 

Depression is an awful beast, when it hits, it shocks you to your core, it breaks you. Yet, there you alway are. You've accepted this as a part of me, even though I know it hurts you. When I cry over a patient, get all worked up at the latest awful thing. When I'm in the total pits, you're still there. When I'm suicidal, a complete mess, crying nonstop, pushing you completely away, there you are. Thank you. 

Those worlds will never be enough, but I hope the time I spent on this silly ode evens out the score a little bit =)