According to this article, August 30 was the most likely day of the entire year to engage in a dust-up with your significant other.
"The theory is that post-holiday blues combined with the end of the summer and no more bank holidays until Christmas conspire together to make August 30 the day tempers will fray.
Paula Hall, a sexual and relationship psychotherapist, said the arguments can be explained by a simple equation: Post-Holiday Depression + Financial Strain - Lack of Light/Domestic Chaos = Relationship Stress."
Last night after our annual Labor Day bash, I mentioned this tripe to Pretty and said it was a load of crap. She responded by explaining that there might be something to it, as the impending burden of paying bills with no foreseeable bank holiday was really weighing on her.
"Oh yeah?" I sneered while inspecting our overdrawn checkbook. "I'd kill puppies to have your problems. You know what it's like to work your ass off all day only to come home to this domestic chaos? "
"Here we go again with the puppy killing," sighed Pretty mockingly. "At least you get outside of this dungeon once in awhile. You know what it's like being forced to live in this sunless pit after growing up in Arizona?"
"Fine, Pretty. You go back to Arizona. Who needs this relationship stress anyway?"
I woke up this morning in the utility room, surrounded by empty cans of paint thinner. August 30. What a crock of shit.
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5 comments:
Interesting thought about the relationships. I am sure there are other points during the year that may have similar effects on one's personal life. Like the shortest day of the year, which here in England, lasts about six hours total before plunging you into neverending darkness. Maybe that is classified as "suicide watch day" by the police and we just don't know about it yet. Come on BBC, get on it.
Interesting. The wife and I saw this same article and it caused quite the row. I insisted that, in fact, there were a number of bank holidays before Christmas and that she should just lighten up. For her part, she said Labor Day, Columbus Day, Veterans' Day and Thanksgiving didn't count. Besides, even if they did, she said that's only four bank holidays before Christmas, so her tempers were still slightly frayed. Needless to say, I ended up on the couch. Damn August 30th!
All I can say is I'm grateful I SURVIVED August 30th at all since husband's middle name is Wayne and he's probably predisposed to coming undone anyway. (See CKoz's link from previous blog post and comments.)
Fortunately, the Twins were on and he was chillin'.
I will have to add some paint thinner cans to our "snoring" room. It will add to the atmosphere.
Bank holidays are for wusses. What a bunch of whiners. Suck it up. Do what you have to do and quit complaining.
Seven days a week..no holidays..28 years. All of that, a middle name of Wayne, a predisposition to come undone, and not a single felony. Life is good no matter how many holidays you get.
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