I beg your pardon?

One of the things that annoy me about hubby is how he won’t answer my questions. He says he does, but really, if I can’t hear his mumbled, under-his-breath response, does it count? He says aye, I say nay. And our debate goes on.

To me, if you’re going to respond to someone, the onus should be on you to make sure you are heard and understood. (Ah, that’s another debate – if I can hear vague noises coming from him but can’t make sense of them, does it count?) But hubby is of the opinion that as long as he’s made the effort to answer me, he’s done his part. If I can’t hear him, there must be something wrong with my hearing. If I can’t understand him, well, then it’s my fault.

We’d been going to and fro like this for months, when the following happened one morning while we were getting ready to leave the house. I reckon this has turned the tide in my favour.

I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror when I asked hubby if he had time to grab a quick breakfast before heading in to work. I waited for a response, listening extra carefully in case he muttered something. Nothing. He was out of sight, getting dressed in our walk-in wardrobe, so I gave him another minute. Still nothing.

When he finally emerged, I gave him a look and said, “I asked you a question. I’m still waiting for your answer.”

He said, “I already answered you.”

I said, “No, you didn’t.”

He said, “I did. I shook my head.”