Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Don't Drink*, Don't Smoke, What Do You Do?**

* Okay, so I do drink socially. But we're, sadly, not a very social couple. So the drinking is a nice luxury when it does happen.

** Also, I don't swear. At all. I've said the alternative "a" word for bum a few times, mainly to make Hubby laugh. But other than that I can't even bring myself to say the mild "d" word (for darn it). How pitiful am I?

Anyway, even though I appear to be a completely upstanding citizen, completely without fault (cough, cough), Sweetie has still managed to pick up on my one and only (cough, hack, cough) bad habit.

Namely, my use of the word hate.

Now, I was raised to never use the word hate. You don't hate anyone., my parents would admonish. You can strongly dislike someone or something, but you don't hate.

That, and you don't say Oh my God. He had nothing to do with it., my parents would inform. Say Oh my goodness or Oh my gosh instead.

But back to the hate. That's how my brothers and I grew up - not hating. To hate was a very bad thing and it just wasn't done. And so, that philosophy has seeped into my being and become an innate part of me....

Until we got cats.

When they were kittens, all was well and cute and adorable fuzzy love. Then they turned into cats.

But really, they turned into dogs. At least my cat did.

She follows me everywhere. She is always under foot. From the moment I get out of bed in the morning, she is right in front of me, leading me on my journey to the bathroom. Then she's pacing at my feet as I sit on the commode. Then, since I sit on the bathroom floor to get dressed and put on my braces everyday, she constantly circles around me as I get dressed. With her fluffy tail in my face and her cold nose on my legs.

I push her away. I (gently) kick her away. I sometimes even throw her out the door. But she always comes back. Repeatedly. Every time. Every day. Non stop. It never ends.

And so, occasionally, unfortunately, regrettably, it comes out.

I hate you, Noki!


I once said it when Sweetie was right there with me.

You hate Noki? she asked, sad disappointed look upon her face.

No. I don't hate Noki. I just get annoyed by what she does. She's always in my way.


Then, I said it again at some point last week (and probably more times in between). This recent time, Sweetie was not right with me, but very likely close enough to hear if she wanted to.


Cut to a couple days ago when I changed the T.V. channel to Live With Regis and Kelly. Sweetie didn't want to watch it, but I was interested in the band that was featured. I told her to listen to the new song and see if she liked it.

I don't like this song! she said.

I hate this song! she continued.

I whipped my head around to look at her. She had this smirk on her face like she knew she just used a new word that she really shouldn't have used. She knew.

No, you don't hate the song. We don't hate anything. If you don't like it, fine. But you don't hate it.

No argument from Sweetie. She knew she was testing me.


I told Hubby about this incident. I told him I knew I was the party to blame. He reminded me of my use of the "H" word last week. I know, I know. I need to be more careful.

Some people have swearing jars, where money goes in everytime a swear word comes out. Maybe I need to keep my own kind of jar. The Hate Jar.

Cuz, in our house, hate is an ugly, ugly word.

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