My husband threw away my kitchen sink strainers.
Let's just allow that to sink in for a moment.
After "emotional cruelty" and "alienation of affection," I
believe kitchen sink strainers may be the number one cause of
Now to be fair, Joe did run out beforehand and buy $2.99
replacement strainers. These were the kind with mesh wiring to
catch the gunk. He said he hated my old strainers and the new ones
Untested, sure. But somehow "better."
The kids immediately jumped on board with dad, for no other
reason than his strainers were newer and sexier.
My sons will have absolutely no problem welcoming dad's trophy
wife one day.
As Joe dumped my reliable and non-mesh strainers into the trash,
I suggested we wait to see how the new strainers work out before we
abandoned the old ones.
He would have none of it. He even had Danny take the garbage out
to the alley to solidify his point.
And two days later, both $2.99 mesh strainers were broken and
mangled, having never successfully retained a full sink of
I tried other ones from Target. They sucked. Home Depot's
strainers weren't much better. I was left to order an assortment of
new options from Amazon while jamming washrags in the sink to
create a basin of soapy water.
And all the while, Joe maintained a complete façade of
innocence, returning my angry glares with the most angelic of
expressions, as though I wasn't entitled to a single "I told you
You don't ever rob this crazy lady of an "I told you so."
So I went a little nuts. There was arm waving. Maybe some
colorful language. Perhaps I whipped the mangled broken mesh
strainer across the living room.
Joe offered up the weakest of apologies:
"The Canadian Sorry."
I call it that because Joe doesn't pronounce the word like most
Americans. He goes the Canadian route where it sounds more like
He's cheating and he knows it.
Finally, my selection arrived:
After much testing and debating, I found the most reliable of
strainers to be the plastic plunger looking one:
I happily filled up an entire sink of sudsy water that I knew
wouldn't immediately drain away. Peace and order were restored to
Until Joe approached and mumbled something about the new
strainer not being able to collect gunk.
And that's when I realized the fatal flaw of my new plastic
It totally doesn't hurt when, say, thrown at a husband who needs
to learn when to walk away.
And pronounce "sorry" correctly.
Marianne is mother of three sons and the wife of a southside Irish fireman. She has learned that sometimes you're just too dumb to know what makes you happy. She blogs regularly at We Band of Mothers (webandofmothers.com) and curses with even greater frequency. Her material is written for the imperfect, the imprudent, and the impatient mothers who know that all this stuff is really very funny if you just give it a minute.
See more of Marianne's stories here.
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