My latest hissy fit.............

For you youngsters out there reading this, hissy fit is another term for temper tantrum. What? You're telling me that now that you are an adult you never have temper tantrums? Ya, right? Well, not to brag, but I do from time to time. Here is a re-cap of my latest one.

Last Sunday, my youngest was doing her laundry and ask me if I wanted her to throw in my dirty running clothes. I said sure, as long as she washed them on cold and didn't put them in the dryer. I then told (my) Mister if he happen to change the laundry from the washer to the dryer NOT to put my running clothes in the dryer. I know he heard me, because he answered, "ok."

You might have already guessed, but about an hour later I went downstairs to find my daughter folding my running clothes. When I inquired, she assured me that it wasn't her that put the clothes in the dryer. The rest of the conversation went something like this:

Me: (to Mister) Did you put the clothes in the dryer?

Mister: (In a proud "isn't it great that I helped out" voice) Ya. Why?

Me: Didn't I ask you not to put my running clothes in the dryer?

Mister: I didn't look at what was in the washer, I just put it in the dryer.

Me: In the seven years that we have been married, have I ever just randomly initiated a conversation about laundry?

Mister: Well, no, but...

Me: (interupting) Then doesn't it make sense that if I talked to you about laundry it would be in regards to the current load?

Mister: Yes, but...

Me (interupting again) Just leave me alone and don't talk to me, I'm mad at you.

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Me: (about thirty seconds later) And I just threw your pillows on the floor, and I hope the dogs pee on them and ruins them for you.

The next morning, I got a very nice e-mail from (my) Mister saying he was sorry about drying my clothes and that he would replace anything that was ruined. That is the whole crux of the matter and why I got upset. My running clothes can't be replaced because of the memories they contain. Each piece reminds me of a special race or workout, or a special time with my daughter. When I don't feel like running, I can put on some of those clothes and get motivated to get my butt out and run. These clothes have become somewhat sacred objects as silly as that might sound. When (my) Mister put them in the dryer I felt like he was dis-honoring those memories. I know he didn't do it on purpose, but still...

Do any of you have sacred items like this that other people might think of as ordinary and replaceable? Please let me know what they are, and why they are sacred to you.

And by the way... I am no longer mad at (my) Mister (at least for the moment) and you will be happy to know the dogs did NOT pee on his pillows, so all is well that ends well... Right?