1. I don't dig on sorting socks. I'll fold laundry with no problem. As a matter of fact, I really, really like folding a shirt just right on the kitchen counter with some good indie rock on the stereo, but socks; fuck 'em. I just dump them all in the drawer and reach for them in the morning. Folding them would actually save me time each morning due to the fact that I have twenty-one variations of white socks and due to my colorblindness, it takes me quite a while to tell black from navy. Either way, I'm frantically pairing them up in the morning.
2. To hell with eating processes that take too long. I'm not talking about the cooking part because there is a certain satisfaction in that. No, what I'm talking about are things like fondue where you have things soaking in hot oil, and while you're talking and drinking, you lose track of what you're doing and overcook everything. Even when you get it right, it's like one little bite at a time, and I'm very rarely full by the end of the whole ordeal. Also, who wants their clothes to smell like hot oil the rest of the night?
I got thinking about my dislike for lengthy eating procedures last night when Gancey Girlfriend and I went out for crab. Getting meat from those legs is the most arduous process in the history of eating stuff. Granted, the meat is damn good, but you have to prick your hands on the legs and root it out of there with a tiny fork . . . The staff can't do that for us?
However, Gancey Girlfriend likes this sort of thing, so she was in charge. I did some of the brute force breaks, but she did the shit I'm way too impatient for, like all that rooting, and separating the contents into bowls; one for the meat and one for the refuse. The beauty of it is that we were then able to just pour the butter sauce over the meat and eat it with a fork all at once like a bomb-ass stew. Had it not been for her, I would have been eating a tiny, shitty bite at a time, cutting open my hands and cursing to the point where I would either get thrown out or committed for cursing out dead crabs.
This night was also a demonstration on how Gancey Girlfriend and I so perfectly compliment one another . . .
How about you, readers? What's something that really isn't that big a deal, but you just hate doing it? And/Or, tell us about a way that you and a significant other past or present compliment each other.