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Horror stories of married life When Mr. Pooh and I first got married (long before I started this diary) I thought everything was supposed to be all blissful and wonderful and stuff. It wasn't, though, and I thought that there was something terribly wrong with us, because newlyweds are supposed to be happy. I very nearly divorced Mr. Pooh after two months because he wouldn't flush the toilet in the morning. According to Mr. Pooh's logic, he couldn't flush the toilet because it would take too long to fill up, and he couldn't take a shower until the toilet filled up because the water would be too hot. Mr. Pooh didn't want to wait. So Mr. Pooh decided to just shut the lid and flush the toilet after he took a shower. Unfortunately, Mr. Pooh often forgot to flush the toilet. So I would find his poop soup or morning pee sitting in the toilet in the afternoon when I came home from school. It happened a couple times, and I didn't say anything. Then it happened more and more often, so I told him to start flushing the fucking toilet in the morning. He didn't. I told him if he did it anymore I'd divorce him. He didn't care. Finally, I told him that if he didn't start flushing the goddamn toilet in the morning that I'd start leaving even nastier surprises for him (girls can, you know). That scared him into stopping. The threat of divorce didn't stop him, but the threat of a bloody mess did. Asshole. He's not an asshole anymore, but he was then. It was such a stupid issue. That's what was so dumb about it and what made me so mad. I mean who saves their crap? No one. The moral of the story is that, um, you should flush the toilet, because no one wants to see your mess. And, um, sometimes the biggest fights are for the stupidest reasons. And, uh, marriage is a big adjustment, no matter how well you know each other. The End
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