I made the colossally huge mistake of doing the Nohari window, and asking for Hubby's input. Hmph. He thinks I'm glum. Actually, once I asked him about it, he said I'm not glum, but the word he was looking for wasn't available. He thinks I'm pessimistic. See, that's just wrong. I'm not a pessimist, I'm a realist. He just isn't seeing it because he's such a freakin' optimist (also know as "head-in-sand-ist"). He also said I'm overdramatic. Imagine! Me, overdramatic!
We can look at the exact same scenario and see two completely different things. For example, if the car is making weird noises, I say "The car is making weird noises. Sounds bad, like maybe the CV joints are going. The wheels are going to fall off any minute now, and we will careen into the side of the mountain, and DIE!" And he will say "Probably just snow built up around the wheel wells." Then he rolls his eyes, like he thinks I can't see him. Sometimes he's right, and the snow is the problem. Sometimes, it's July.
Our first night in Korea, I was in total overdrive. First of all, what I thought was the entrance to the building was actually our apartment. Then, I discovered that I do not do well with change. Our bed came with pillows and blankets, but not the kind you can sleep with. The pillows were about 12 inches thick, and solid. I whined. I howled. I cried that I would never be able to sleep in this terrible place with these terrible pillows. Hubby sighed, rolled over and went to sleep.
For the last year and a half, ever since we moved into this house, I've been complaining about the electric bill. It doubled from our old house. Every month, when the bill came, I was all "Arghh! This is too high! Something must be terribly wrong! Maybe we are illegally hooked up to supply power to someone else's house, too!" and I'd run around like a power nazi, turning off everything. Sometimes I wouldn't even wait for him to leave a room before I turned off the lights. His response was "Hmmm. Bigger house, different type of furnace, bigger bill. Turn the damn lights back on, woman." Ha! I was right! The electric company called last month. We've been paying the wrong rate ever since we moved in. They ended up sending us a cheque. A BIG cheque. Sometimes I'm right. Just often enough to keep me from changing, and to keep him on his toes. And those times, when I can shout "Ha! See?! I was right!" all worth all the eye-rolling and sighing I put up with the rest of the year.