My last post was about self-control and how I needed to aquire some of it (can you buy it on e-bay, by the kilo perhaps?) This post is about control and how I need to let go of it.
The other night I was giving my husband a hard time about the way he stacks the dishwasher aka the magic box. This has been a recurring theme in our house as I believe he stacks it wantonly, yes, wantonly, with whole cubic centilitres of space wasted willy nilly. I find this particularly galling as being an architect he is supposedly a spatial expert.
Writing this down makes me even more keenly aware of the pettiness of it. And of course, I've had enough therapy to understand that my insistence on having the dishwasher stacked a certain way is not really about 'domestic efficiency' and is actually about CONTROL.
When it comes to control, I'm a little bit like Darth Vader. (Although luckily for those around me I don't have the power of the Dark Side to strangle someone who displeases me without even touching them).
This sketchbook entry is for my husband, the ever-patient Duckers: sorry I forgot to relinquish control.