I would classify my husband as a non-reader. In fact, he refers to the Chelsea Handler "trilogy" as the greatest work of literature in the 21st century. Enough said. He has been reading more for his academic program and for his job. When he came home from work last night, he told me he has a book he'd like to recommend that he thinks I would like. Really?!? Some common reading interest!!! I'm listening!
My husband would like me and my high school daughters David Allen's Getting Things Done. (I think he was a speaker he arranged at work). At this point I'm still happy and still listening. He proceeds to tell me how this book will make me "more efficient." Oooops! Mistake #1.
Perhaps the look for murder in my eyes was his first clue (he actually caught on!) . . . let the backpeddaling begin! Stammering, he proceeds, "I mean . . . uh . . . it is about making lists to free your mind . . . um . . . and . . . uh . . . I know you have a lot going on . . . uh . . ."
"Uh . . . I thought since you do so much, this will help you feel like you have more time to yourself."
Glaring eases. He should have stopped there, but he's male.
"And . . . uh . . . if you and the girls are more productive, then there will be less for me to do?!?!?" At this point both my daughter and I kicked him out of the room.
Things to add to my list--make a dog house for my husband.