ridiculous topics for marital rows

[whendotheyleavehome]

OK, so I caught myself getting cross at hubby when on family holiday for having fruit and fibre for breakfast as he was 'obviously' trying to engineer more 'me time' on the loo away from the kids.

Please, please tell me I'm not the only one to have picked THE most ludicrous fight? Other examples please....or am I a lone witch?...

Ex-DH and I had a stand up row (over crumpets and tea in Liberty, ffs), about my mild comment that Nurse Ratchett (One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest) was possibly a little maligned and Murphy (the same) was possibly a bit of a twat. DH was INCENSED and insisted I took every word back. I refused. He insisted. I refused. He said I was an awful human being. I said he was a dick. Things escalated. He was enraged and I was aghast. This was possibly the moment the bell tolled for our marriage.

I don't care if Ratchett is the arch demon of all literature, by the way; I just reserve the right to indulge in a little literary chat while I butter my crumpet.

Liberty print makes me feel a little nauseous, even now.

I have just realised that either my DH is on here with about three different NN's, or I'm not the only one who gets twitchy when the Sky+ goes beyond 40% free...

Badvoc's comment about medicine reminds me of the incredibly pointless arguments DH and I used to have about the medication when the children were ill.

Me: "DD's been sick."
DH: "Give her Calpol."
Me: "Mmm. She's not in pain and her temperature's fine - and she'll probably throw it back up. I'm not going to give her Calpol."
DH: "What's the matter with you? She's not well. Give her Calpol""
Me: "But I wouldn't bandage her leg for a headache, so I'm not going to give her pain relief for a stomach bug. She just needs fluids."
DH: "Just give her Calpol!"
Me: "Are you fucking sponsored or something?"

We had this argument about 40 times.

Ex-DH used to get very twitchy about the SkyPlus %, too.

A Sky engineer was warning me never to go below 50 per cent but I've forgotten why. Possibly a girl with long hair draped over her face climbs out and kills you.

He explained how great the new box was compared to the one he was replacing because it had more capacity and I was thinking: 'yeah but you've just told me that you can't use half of it.'

we went to bed to sleep back to back, purposely and dramatically pulling away if any part of either of us touched the other during the night

oh we do this.

I used to go by "never go to sleep on a row" but that just meant the row carried on till 3am. usually we've forgotten about the row when we wake up.

An engineer said never go below 50%?!? That's brilliant, I have now won that argument for the rest of time [celebrate good times come on!]

There is a possible row brewing in our house about what is used to jam the spare bedroom window open since the sash cord is broken. It couldn't flourish at the weekend, because DH tried to start it in front of the guest. The guest gave us a withering stare.

Isn't a broken sash cord really dangerous? My mum used to tell an awful story about someone who died when a window fell shut on her because of a broken sash cord but I've forgotten the details.

Whenever a David Niven film came on she used to trot out the story that his first wife died during a game of hide and seek by squeezing into the dumb waiter which then crashed into the basement.

She did not. She did die in a game of hide and seek, but she fell down the cellar steps instead. I used to point out this macabre fact every time and every time A Matter Of Life And Death or something came on she'd tell the same story.

In the end I got a copy of his autobiography and made her read the relevant passage.

Next time a David Niven film came on, guess what she said?

A broken sash cord might not be lethal btw. My mum had a bit of a fondness for exaggeration.

My mum...ah, there's someone not to argue with. She will simply announce that "I think you'll find you're wrong about that, darling". Even when the FACTS ARE CLEARLY AGAINST HER. Push it - like prove she is factually wrong - and she will simply go into a Hurt Huff for bloody ages.

She's always been like this. Age has nothing to do with it.

KarateKimmi

Your pancake story reminded me of one years ago. I was cooking prawn curry on the stove at the end of the kitchen opposite the back door. My then DH was in the garden with the two toddlers. While the curry was cooking, I was making a large mince pie because he liked it but hadn't yet put the pastry lid on it. DH opened the back door and said something (can't remember what), causing a row.

I picked up the mince pie and threw it at him. He closed the back door just in time. The mince pie slid down the inside of the back door. He opened the back door again, picked a towel from the towel rail attached to the inside of the back door and threw it at me. It missed me but caught the handle of the prawn curry pan ........ All I saw through my red mist was his face laughing outside .....

Reading it now, it doesn't seem very funny.

X for 21 years now.

We had a dumb waiter lift in my first workplace. Mad Pauline used to love going in it and jumping out to frighten people.

She had a reckless disregard for life and limb, but did love a practical joke.

MAD.

We had a huge row about John Aldridge,once. A proper,this-is-the-end row and I think we didn't speak for a couple of days afterwards

I cannot for the life of me remember what exactly John Aldridge had done to get us both riled up but I am not going to open that can of worms again!

Dp and I had a massive row once about whether I would let Robbie Williams serenade me on stage during Angels. We aren't planning on seeing Robbie live, aren't fans and don't particuarly like the song

My ex and I didn't speak for almost a week once after I informed him that i considered it rude to cut the pointy tip off a triangle of cheese (eg Brie or similar), I reckon you should take
a slice from the side rather than eat the end bit. Apparently I'm an insufferable snob. 6 days we maintained that silence. Apart from talking via the cat "please inform your mother that I will be late home tonight", "tell your father that I don't care what time he comes home"
That kind of thing. How incredibly mature of us.

Who turns the clocks forward/back. DH apparently doesn't need clocks or time, as he's Dr Frigging Who so the laws of time are not applicable to him.

Every. 6. Fucking. Months.

Same argument, him 'just leave the clocks we'll remember and I don't look at them anyway' [anger]

We have so many petty arguments over such pathetic things it's hard to think of the worst. One that happened the other day was over butter. It was a brand we hadn't tried before and I happened to comment on how nice it was. He tried to take credit for it saying it was him that had chosen it. I knew for a fact it was me but he insisted it had been his idea. Then, after he's got me all wound up he accuses me of being argumentative and I always have to have the last word. These kind of arguments happen at least once a week.

The row dh and I had in an electrical shop over food mixers and their utensils. The useless inexperienced shop assistant made matters far worse, and dh ended up flouncing, but expected me to trail after him!

His face was all when he turned around and found that I was, in fact, walking off towards the train station with every intention of leaving him stranded (car keys in my bag).

I wouldn't worry about it too much limited! - the window just won't stay open at all. I suppose if you were cackhanded about it, it could fall on your fingers, but no-one's going to be leaning out of it. The row was not about whether the house was a lethal death-trap for our guests, but rather was about the choice of small object to jam it a bit open to provide a bit of fresh air in the bedroom.

The "hiding versus tidying" row.

Apparently moving shite from whence it fell to pre-designated places is hiding things. Whereasleaving said shite in huge, towering piles am over the house in completely random places isn't necessarily being messy, or disorganised.

We have this row approx once a month unless I'm pregnant (frequency increases to weekly) or on maternity leave when I find I cannot give the smallest, shiniest shit where DH deposits his stuff. But I am ever so slightly smug every time he's late for work because he can't find anything.

One of the final nails in the coffin of a previous relationship was hammered in by the mega row over how to cut sandwiches for a NYE party we were having.

I said little triangles (x shaped cut in regular slice of bread) he said just one cut, I said that made them great big man sandwiches and the kids invited wouldn't manage them. He called me a control freak who would never let him express himself when cooking!

Glad I've got lovely DH now

BeerTricksPotter - my parents had a legendary row playing Scrabble. For years afterwards, evidence for and against the proposition that "foodhall" is a word was gathered by them, their friends and family. Check it out next time you're in Harrods...

I knew my DH was a keeper we went to Ikea together and didn't argue.