The Great Peeve War

There’s a war that has been raging for over 30 years that you’ve probably never heard of.  It’s been happening right here in this country—right here in Pennsylvania as a matter of fact. Although I’m equally sure skirmishes have broken out all over the country—perhaps all over the world!  It’s called The Great Peeve War.

The participants are well trained operatives.  I myself began training when I was just a child.  I observed my fellow combatants in their natural habitats, took note of their strengths—and more importantly—their weaknesses, waiting, watching for a chance to exploit them.

Typical warfare consisting of repeating everything your opponent said, and the patented “I’m rubber, you’re glue” tactic.  And the more advanced “I’m not touching you” maneuver which required close proximity to your opponents. You also learned to identify your own weaknesses and develop hardened immunity to them.  Constant practice ensured greater success on the battlefield and naturally, as we grew, so did our skills.

During my dating years, I perfected the “do you think she’s pretty?” and the “do I look fat in this outfit?” interrogation techniques.  And my “What do YOU think?” look was deadly.  And in those dating years, I also honed my defensive talents.  Phrases like “my buddies want me to…” and “would you be mad if…” triggered my bullshit radar.   I learned to counter, bob and weave and land a few well timed tears followed by a devastating look of betrayal.  I was at the top of my game then.

But nothing could prepare me for The Great Peeve War!  It’s a whole other animal.  It’s subtle, it’s never ending, and it goes something like this.  My husband and I disagree on something—could be major—or it could be minor—or it could be almost nothing at all. We walk away from each other (translation: we retreat to regroup).  We avoid making any overt contact to allow each other to calm down, forget.

At this point I will notice my silverware drawer is messed up—spoons in the fork slot, knife handles in all directions! (SHOTS FIRED) Shrugging off the initial volley, I will go into the bathroom and drip water all over the sink and shower faucets leaving water spots. (RETURN FIRE) For good measure, I turn the toilet paper roll so it feeds from (gasp) THE BOTTOM.  (LANDMINE ACTIVATED) Then I quietly leave the bathroom and prepare to hunker down.

Remaining ever vigilant, head on a swivel, I survey the Great Room—I sense it before I see it.  Something is off and…there it is! The wine glass is on the coffee table sitting NEXT to the coaster–not on it! (DIRECT HIT) My eyes narrow, my breath hitches in my throat, but I compose myself.  I pick up the glass, take it to my husband standing next to the sink and quietly ask, “Are you finished with this?”  I smile sweetly and before he can answer, pour the remaining wine quickly down the drain. (BOOM) “Not the wine,” I hear him groan, “it was just an innocent bystander.”

He takes me by the hand and leads me to the sofa.  “I’m sorry for everything,” he says. 
“Let’s just forget it all and snuggle on the sofa and watch some tv.”  I spy the romantic comedy dvd box on the coffee table now and smiling, settle in against his shoulder.  (CEASEFIRE)

He picks up the remote and on comes…FOOTBALL…(HOSTILITIES RESUME)