Patron Saint of Patience.

The thing about having a significant other who you live with is that eventually you're going to collide with them on some issue. I'm not saying that C and I fight very much, or that when we do fight its about anything big. Usually I can't even say that they qualify as honest to goodness fights so much as they are spats or disagreements. Usually its something like:

ME: I left you a whole list of things to do today (laundry, feed animals, do the fuckin' dishes) and you're telling me that you couldn't do any of them because you were mowing the grass?
HIM: ....The grass was long!

Of course any man reading this probably understands how it could take all day to manicure our coffee table sized yard, especially when you factor in mandatory sports center and baseball uniform washing and ironing breaks.

That's just it though. Eventually, though you love them and have an inane desire to take care of them and keep them happy and well fed, their Inner Co-Ed Intermural Baseball Star is going to collide with your Burgeoning Housewife Living with Five Men.

Today, however, my BHLWFM was ready for a fight when his ICEIBS used my freshly washed and dried turbie twist and my favorite new cloth belt to tie a target bag full of ice to his shoulder. In the bathtub. This is how it went:

ME: Are you using my clothes to ice your shoulder!?
HIM: I had to use what I had! We need to get some ace bandages in this house!
(IMAGINARY ME): Right after we get food and light bulbs and medicine and toothpaste and...
ME: You have to use what YOU have, not what I have!
HIM: It'll be fine, you can just hang your belt up and it will dry!
(IMAGINARY ME): No, YOU can hang my belt up, right this instant, while it is still dry, because Ace bandages cost....well, I don't know how much Ace bandages cost because I fucking hate sports, but it can't be as much as my new belt TAKEITOFFRIGHTNOWORIAMGOINGTOHAVEANANEURYSM.
ME: Give me that belt right now so I can hang it up.

If there is a patron saint of being patient with your boyfriend, sometimes I need him to reveal himself to me in the bubble residue he leaves on my bathtub wall. Or something.

All this being said...I love him a LOT. Any other man I would have already eaten alive, and yet somehow I am still able to peer through this crap and find it endearing.