THERE’S A LITTLE CRAP IN EVERY RELATIONSHIP

a little crap

Every morning, I place my hand inside a small plastic bag and use my makeshift glove to pick up dog poop. On good days, Buster the Schnauzer kindly produces solid, log-like poops. On other days, he is not so kind.  This is the price I pay for having a dog. Do I enjoy cleaning up after him? Definitely not. But it’s only a few minutes of grossness in return for my enjoyment of his endlessly amusing antics and unconditional love.

There is a little crap in every relationship.

My husband is cranky for a solid hour when he first wakes up, my children are genetically incapable of picking laundry off the floor, and my dearest friend is perpetually 30-minutes late. I cannot control these things any more than I can control Buster the Schnauzer’s bowel movements. And since I am rather fond of my spouse, my daughters, and my best-y, it would seem short sighted to separate myself from them in order to avoid such minor irritations.

It must also be pointed out that I produce a fair bit of crap myself. I talk too much (constantly), drink too much (occasionally), and react loudly to any situation involving the -isms (e.g. sexism, racism, Republican-ism). My hair perpetually clogs the sink in our upstairs bathroom, I claim all money found in the dryer as my own, and I will drain someone else’s glass of water if I am thirsty.

We all have crap.

I suspect that those people who loudly proclaim that they “don’t put up with any crap” are very lonely.  I believe the secret to happiness rests not in avoiding crap but rather, in finding effective ways to deal with it. I cannot stop Buster the Schnauzer from pooping in the grass but I can make sure I always have a plastic bag in my pocket.

So I try not to have in-depth conversations with my husband in the morning. I pick one day of the week to insist that my girls clean their rooms and try to let it go the rest of the week. And I lie to my friend about the start times for movies.

I also do my best to minimize my own crap. I bought a snake-like device from Canadian Tire for getting hair out of drains, put a money jar on top of the dryer, and started lugging a water bottle around with me.   And I recently kept myself from responding to a clearly misogynistic facebook post (although that damn near killed me and I know that I cannot maintain that degree of restraint long-term without dire health consequences).

Adjustments aside, I have accepted that I come with a little crap. For example, I plan to be buried with a mid-price Malbec (Just sayin’).  And I suspect that I will always be a talker (I am from a long line of talkers).

I say a silent thank-you every day for the friends and loved ones who seem to find my crap endearing, or at least tolerable.   And to those friends and loved ones, I solemnly vow to also tolerate their crap (and to find at least some of it endearing) because…

Love means never having to say you’re sorry… just for being a little crappy.

Author: kim scaravelli

Kim lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, with her long-suffering husband, an assortment of off-spring, a charming cat named Winnie, and a less charming (but oddly loveable) schnauzer named Buster.

4 thoughts

  1. We all have crap…and like my grand daughter does sometimes, we can say I’m done and unapologetically walk away and play by ourselves. She’s cute that way! I’m also thankful people put up with my crap.

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