Wicked witch of the west

www….. that’s what my husband calls me when he can’t understand my reasoning, or when he can’t win the argument. Wicked witch of the west..and the east too, when he really gets going. I generally don’t accept this as a personal judgement of my character. Nobody else calls me that. It’s just my husband’s way of trying to get at me when he feels a little hard done by. He gets over it eventually and starts calling me ‘gorgeous’ again.

My wicked witch of the west title is exercised under several categories. My testiness in the mornings when I haven’t had a good night’s sleep, ie…being kept awake by my husband’s tossing and turning, with the occasional gurgle and snort just when I’m drifting off.  My irritability when I am little stressed over a family drama, and it interferes with the Saturday afternoon football game that he is engrossed in. My lack of concern for his aching back after he has wacked at the tree stump all day, after I told him to get an aborist in. And maybe even my lack of interest in a new fruit tree that he has planted, after I suggested that ten fruit trees might be enough, and perhaps we could get a christmas bush instead.

As far as my husband is concerned, I am a chameleon. I change like the wind, and so, he has invented one title to suit all moods. It works for him. And while it continues to be a half-affectionate musing that is overshadowed by his more adoring remarks of my physical and intellectual abilities, I am inclined to let it go for the time being.

God forbid that he ever loses his sense of humour.

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