Rule 1: Make Your 'Yes" Mean "Yes"

We have five rules; here is the first one.

Song for Murray

The most unusual love song you will ever hear...

Why Can’t You Put Your Dishes in the Dishwasher?

Why Can’t You Put Your Dishes in the Dishwasher?

If you are of a particular personality type, as I am, it makes no sense to you that someone would not put their dishes in the dishwasher as they dirty them.  This is efficient.  This habit keeps the kitchen clean at all times.  Why can’t everyone, by everyone I mean my husband Murray, put his dishes in the dishwasher as he dirties them.

As you might guess we had many conversations about this.  Murray, unusual for him, got quite testy when I asked him, sweetly and patiently, to please put his dishes in the dishwasher as he got them dirty.

I was being reasonable.  He was being unreasonable.  I was right.  He was wrong.

This is a familiar scenario to many, but Murray and I have learned over the years that this story will not end well.  I will be resentful about cleaning up his mess.  He will be rebellious at being micromanaged by me.  We will both be right and we will both be a little miserable and disconnected.  If you get enough of these hairballs in your relationship, you are in big trouble.

Sometimes Murray gets clear first; sometimes I do.  This time, I was the hero.

Let me give some context for this little battle:  Murray is amazingly productive around the house.  He takes out the garbage most of the time, does the recycling, takes care of the car maintenance, and does virtually all of the yard work that we don’t hire out.  He is neat and tidy and clean (his office is always more orderly than mine) which is one reason it made no sense to me that he wouldn’t just put his dishes in the dishwasher.

Our Brilliant Solution

I decided I would forever put Murray's dishes in the dishwasher as a gift of appreciation to him.  Instead of muttering to myself when I cleaned up after him, I would send loving, thoughts of gratitude that I am lucky enough to be married to such a peach.

I told him what I was committing to.  “Murray, I am not going to nag you about the dishes anymore.  You do plenty around here, and I am going to clean up after you from now on and I will do it with love and appreciation every time.  So let the dishes lie!”

As you might guess, Murray loved this solution.  He does put some of his dishes in the dishwasher and he even empties the dishwasher every now and then because he does not want it to feel like a burden to me.  I clean up the kitchen joyfully, often to music, and when the counter sparkles, so does our relationship.

This may seem like a small thing, but it has taken years of therapy and practice to get us to the point where both of us can appreciate the beauty of this solution.

Any comments?  We’d love to hear from you.

 

 

What It's Like to Be Murray

What It’s Like to Be Murray

By Murray Lien

Murray wrote this to help me understand his world and appreciate his contributions. This piece reminded me to look at all the things he does well that I don’t even notice.  He is like the Energizer bunny as he flits around the house and yard tending the plants that grow and the machines that break.  He doesn’t always tell me what he has accomplished, just as I do not tell him all of the housework tasks I have taken care of.  (Other people’s work can be invisible if we aren’t careful.) 

Even though Murray does a lot to help maintain and beautify our home, he doesn't always do what he says he will do.  One example occurred when our hot tub was on the fritz.  Murray had talked with the spa store and they had suggested jiggling the thermostat to see if that would get it working again.  Murray had agreed to do this and went out side specifically to work on the hot tub.  When he came back in the house, I assumed he had done what he set out to do, and he let me believe he had done just that.  Later, when the truth emerged, (he had not jiggled the thermostat after all,)  Murray wrote this letter to help me understand how his brain works.                                                                                                                

How My Brain Works:

Beloved Vicki,

I know I told you that I would reset the thermostat on the hot tub as the serviceman suggested, and I know that the task seemed pretty straightforward to you, but here is how my brain approached keeping my promise to you.

As I went to turn the thermostat on and off, I saw something that made me switch tracks mid-stride.  Our little pond in the backyard, which, as you know, I have to walk by to get to the hot tub, was full of muck.  The water was cloudy.  Leaf particles were floating around, and the plants looked like they were dissolving.  Inner shriek!

 

“Murray to the rescue!” I said to myself as I rolled up my sleeves. First get the screen and strain some of the crud. Drain some water by tilting the pump over the side of the pond with the fountain still running.  Pull the filter off of the pump and hose off the sludge.  Burr, that water is cold.  Get the hose and add water. Meanwhile, Vicki, you are upstairs waiting for me to jiggle the thermostat.

Now, with the pond task taken care of, I needed to bring circulation back to my arms. The spa water could help do that.  It wasn't too cold.  If only the heater hadn't pooped out.  So many things had seemed to go on the fritz the last couple of days. Well, at least the garage door opener was working again.  I only had to schedule an appointment with the repair guy.  Oh, that reminds me to replace the bulb in the garage.  Well, I think to myself, Vicki’s still waiting, assuming I have done what I said I would do.  Better get going on switching the thermostat on and off.

 

Later, as we are driving down the street, you, my beloved, said, "Maybe that will get the hot tub working again.”

 

I can't recall what I said, but I know that I did not say, "Oh, darn, I forgot to jiggle the thermostat.  I had to do some emergency pond rescue.  I'll do the hot tub later."  No, I drove on, pretending that I had jiggled the thermostat as I said I would.  Now I really was in hot water!

The next day I confessed my lack of integrity as we discussed attention control.  The sin, as I see it, was not forgetting to do the hot tub, but rather in pretending that I hadn’t forgotten.  I had practiced not admitting my mistakes, which is always a bad idea if you want to be honest with your beloved.

Your comment:  “This is a trivial event in our lives, one that could easily be overlooked, but our lives are made up of such ‘trivia’” woke me up.  Thank you.

Love,

Murray

Note from Vicki:  The habit of lying is bad for everyone.  Why should Murray need to lie?   If he is afraid of me, we need to talk about that.  If he has a problem with his memory, then we should work together to find strategies to help him.  One thing I know for sure: if we do not admit there is a problem, then we are doomed to repeat it.

This little interaction is a sample of our relationship and of Murray’s relationship with himself.  We are different, thank God!  Let’s make those differences interesting and not the source of conflict and shame.