I don’t take the good, fluffy pillows every night and put them on my side of the bed, leaving my husband with what I like to call the “deflatables.”
I don’t hide chocolate in my desk and when my kids find it, tell them that I am saving it to give to a friend, then shove it in my mouth before bedtime stories, and when my kids question said friend about the chocolate, I don’t glare at said friend like she is crazy when she says that I never gave it to her and say, “Yes, I absolutely did. I can’t believe you forgot.”
I don’t kick myself when I tell my kids that they can only watch an hour of TV then “accidentally” rewind their DVR’d show when they get close to the end just to buy myself more quiet time.
I don’t send my husband pictures of random items that he hasn’t cleaned up around the house with comments like, “Found the remote that you were using. It was in between the part of the couch that you never fully attached and the part where all of the cheerios and half eaten fruit falls. After I retrieved it and got the goop off my hand, I put it in that bin with all of the remote controls in it that I am always referring to as the ‘remote control bin.’” Or, “Your empty Gatorade was in the middle of the living room floor again. I will show you later how we hid the recycling bin in the same spot that it has always been.”
I don’t ask my husband to do bedtime and then sneak downstairs to eat more food. Nope. Don’t do that.
I don’t take my kid’s art from school, place it in a plastic bag so my kids can’t see it, run past them while they watch TV and shove the art outside in the recycling bin. I don’t do this because I haven’t been busted by my son throwing his art out before, leading to him being traumatized for life because I didn’t support his artistic endeavors. Honestly, I think I am doing him a favor. I am just giving him something to be artistic about.
When my husband tries to do this thing that he would call offering advice (criticizing), I don’t bite his head off like a black widow who has eaten her fill and is ready for a nap. And if I did do this, I wouldn’t take a long nap afterwards. Just a shortie.
I stand by these facts as alternative factual non-facts until I look up the definition of fact (which I just won’t do) and in discussion of factuality, I will deem them to be as true or as false as they are. Or as false and as not true as they aren’t. And I just don’t think it gets any clearer than that. At least not nowadays it doesn’t.