I’m Sorry
Please Don’t Say That More Than Once
When you say you’re sorry about something, I implore you to let it be the last time you say you’re sorry about that particular thing to that particular person or group of people.
For instance, if you’ve got a friend who continually apologizes for being late time after time, you have my permission to drill them a new one the next time they say it to you.
Why? Because obviously, they are not trying any harder than they were before to not be late anymore, at least for you. It’s a pattern, and it is an indication that they just plain don’t respect you or anybody else they do it to. I can almost guarantee that they do it to a lot of other people. It’s rude, and it’s disrespectful of you and your time. I don’t know what to do when it’s your husband, wife, or partner. That would be a new article that I do not have the expertise to write.
So, there’s that.
Anybody who says, “Sorry, it won’t happen again” for a certainty will do it again. I mean, hey, don’t we hear from abusive spouses that they’re always sorry, and it won’t happen again? Yeah, that’s not going to stop.
What if they say they are sorry for interrupting you, and they do it all the time? What could you do with that one? Obviously, they don’t care. What if it is your brother or your mother? What the bleepity-bleep could you say to them that will ensure you don’t have to listen to “I’m sorry, but…” again? Well, you could stop talking to them. I’ve pretty much isolated myself because I’ve had it with rude people. So, yeah, you could stop talking to them.
If somebody is always late for you, find something else to do. When they show up half an hour later, you can say, “Gee, I figured you bailed. I’m actually quite busy right now. Tell you what. Why don’t you call me tomorrow, and we can set up another appointment?”
We used to have this system for late teachers in college. If they were a teaching assistant, we’d give them five minutes to get to class. If it were an associate professor, we’d give them ten minutes, and if they were a full professor, we’d give them 15 minutes. After those deadlines had passed, we left class.
If you have an idea, leave it in the comments because I really haven’t figured that one out.
I don’t cook dinner for my husband much anymore. I am a diabetic, and I need to eat earlier than 9 or 10 at night. If I eat late at night, my blood sugar is through the roof in the morning. What we’ve settled into now is that he eats leftovers a lot of the time. I make soup or pasta salads that will stretch to 10 servings or more. Part goes into the freezer, and we eat the rest of it until it is gone. Many times, I opt out for a bowl of cereal or a small salad, and it becomes one of those SFY (shift for yourself) nights. I didn’t do that in the early years of our marriage, but I do now.
We’ve been married for 48 years. He doesn’t seem to mind. The other day, I thought I could ask him if we could have one night out of every seven to have dinner at 5 p.m. I haven’t proposed it yet. He might need a while to think about it. Even though we are both retired, we are not retired, if you get my drift. It’s 6:15 p.m. right now, and this is the 4th story I’ve been working on today. He is the historian at a local online newspaper AlamedaPost.com, and always has a project to work on. He will be 77 years old this coming October, and I’m pleased as anything that we are both busy and interested in stuff. I just want to eat dinner earlier.
I did say to him the other day when he was home earlier than normal, and I served up a nice fish dinner that we could do that more often if he got home at 5 p.m. or thereabouts. He got this speculative look on his face like he was really going to think that one over. So, maybe he might be amendable to a one-night-a-week special dinner. I’m not even talking about really special. Just something that isn’t leftovers.
Okay, I’ve calmed down now. A person can learn to put up with anything. Having a husband who doesn’t drink, fool around, smoke, or make terrible decisions is a blessing. I can put up with the other stuff.