Outbuildings

I've always lived quite a bit in my head and lately I've been living in my She-Shed in my head.  And it's a glorious place.  Wrapped up in a quilt, sitting in my over-stuffed chair, feet up on my ottoman, reading a book, lovely breeze blowing through the open door, surrounded by white-washed wood and light bouncing through the slight warp of the old reclaimed windows and my super hero action figures.  It's so wonderful, I'm not even drinking.

I have since discovered the need for another outbuilding, across the yard from my She-Shed. Waaaay across the yard. I'm going to call it The Asshole Shack.  Now stay with me, people, and we'll do the math. I live with two 14 year old boys, one 45 year old husband and Alice the bad-dog so at any given point in time, I am living with an asshole.

The Asshole Shack that I've built in my head is something along the lines of a blue port-a-potty without the chemical toilet. Plastic, overly hot, uncomfortable bench seat, your feet kinda stick to the damp carpeting on the floor, no ventilation other then a small fan up in the corner that is really only good for blowing the occasional insect into your face. It doesn't sit entirely flush on the ground so any sudden movement will send it tipping juuuust enough to make you think that this time it's going over.

It started off as a joke. A few weekends ago, John was ranting about something; the gal working the register at Starbucks or the inability of a California driver to navigate the intricacies of the Four-Way stop.  I don't remember.  But I was chuckling and I said, "I'm going to build you an Asshole Shack so when you're feeling like this, you'll have somewhere to go."  I laughed. He laughed. It was funny.  Then over the next few weeks, he'd say something and I'd point to the backyard and tell he to go to the Asshole Shack.  These were not 'funny' incidents but more "Really? That's what you're gonna say? Go to your shack." incidents.  Then he'd chuckle and say, "Okay, I deserved that."

Then the other night at dinner, Sam said something, I don't remember what, but I pointed out back and told him to go to the Asshole Shack.  And he was aghast! Struck silent with more righteous indignation ever seen this side of a vegan rally.

Sam, "I can't believe you called me an A-hole."
Me, "I didn't call you an asshole.  I said your behavior was worthy of the Asshole Shack."
Sam, "But...uh...it's the same thing."
Me, "No, it isn't. Some people are assholes and some people occasionally behave like assholes."
It was an important distinction but he couldn't let it go so we continued to discuss my statement for quite a long time without once talked about what he had said that started the whole thing in the first place.

And that, my friends, is why the Asshole Shack will be completely lined with mirrors.  So you can sit there and stare at yourself until you realize that there is a 90% chance that it's your own fault that you're in there in the first place.

And you really don't want to be stuck in there with another person so if you must behave like an asshole, remember to time your outbursts accordingly. Just a suggestion.
You're welcome.