Something you do that drives your significant other crazy.
When I sent my husband an email to tell him that I needed help with my blog, I figured that the "crazy-making" thing would end up being "how you always email me with such minute details of our life." When we sat down later that evening to actually discuss the topic, I hinted (strongly) that this would be a perfect "guest posting" opportunity for him. No such luck. But he did give me two ... not just one but two ... crazy-makers. After 18.5 years of marriage I suppose he is entitled to two.
I have a lot to do, freelance project under deadline, day job, exercise, cat's in the cradle and the kids have the flu and all that, so here they are. No analysis, no defense, just the cold hard crazy-making facts. (Feel free, however, to leave comments of support, agreement with him (if you must), or anything that may arrive in my inbox and make me think "yay! someone read my blog").
In this image of my dresser, you see (among other things) my daughter's "House of Representatives" patch from when she was a page in the House ... two years ago ... a tin I bought at Christmas to use for a gift card .... a spool of brown ribbon I bought a couple of weeks ago for Tenley's dance costume, and of course a big green (Christmas) pen. The issue? I don't pick up after myself. It's true.
Apparently, my husband and children have a running joke about the fact that it takes me twice as long to do anything as they expect. For example, a ten minute trip to Publix for one item turns into an hour-long odyssey.
One thing that does not drive me crazy is comments. Bring 'em on! But if you're planning to refer me to Hoarders after seeing learning about my "picking up after myself" issue, please let me know in advance. I think I need to run out for milk.