I always tell ADHD he takes everything away from me. He hates Christmas, therefore doesn’t celebrate it- I try to negotiate with him saying I don’t celebrate Jesus, just presents. He retaliates by saying he hates consumerism. I told him I was going to buy a convertible because I’d always wanted one, he tells me they’re death traps ( yet he salivates over the tiny Smart Cars and insists they’re safer). I tell him I want a maid, he says it’s impractical and they’ll just steal our shit ( though we can have one when we move overseas, because the houses have built in maid’s quarters. Upon asking if I could lock the maid in at night, he relented and said yes. ).

He did agree to satin sheets though.

So in lieu of this, I’ve been asking him for various pygmy animals, partially because I want SOMETHING exotic and miniature, partially for my own amusement. Thus far he has rejected my requests for a mini horse ( “Where are you going to keep it? It will just shit everywhere.” ), a miniature potbellied pig ( “No! Do you know how big those things get? Only if I can name it Bacon and eat it.” ) and this morning, a pygmy hippopotamus.

Admittedly, the hippopotamus was a stretch, but I saw one of my girlfriends post about one on Facebook and decided to give it a try.

“Honey? Can we get a pygmy hippopotamus?”
“…A hippo? What the fuck do you want with a hippo?”
“They’re adorable. Don’t you think so?”
“No, they’re also mean as shit.”
“I’d raise it to be nice.”
“Yeah, because that works out with people who raise wolves really well.”
“They’re not even that big.”
“Not even that big? Like a half a ton instead?!”
“No! Like 400lbs. And they only stand 32 inches high.”
“Gross. I’ll tell you what. You can get a hippo if after you raise it, I can eat it.”

ADHD often says he will allow me to bring animals into our household if he can eat them. I’ve often been tempted to test this theory, but I’d be broken hearted if he went through with it.

My version of mental instability is different, but often lends a complement to his- I often think if we were the same version our marriage would end up a compacted real life version of The Most Dangerous Game, except implicitly more interesting due to us both having a working knowledge of subtle chemical compounds; though I will admit his repertoire surpasses mine.

This morning, after an hour long wakeful spell ( we have an extremely odd sleep schedule ), we were jolted by one of the neighbour’s car alarms. When we chose this apartment due to the location and the fact that it was new; the leasing agent assured us it would be perfect for our needs. Three months later, it appears that we are the only family on the block who isn’t either a) bogged down with 3 or more children under the age of six or b) on government assistance. Deduce from that what you will.

Either way, both ADHD and I have an insatiable hatred for car alarms. I’ve always been an easy target for irritance; everything grates on my nerves, I am particularly sensitive to sounds, and go from zero to takeoff tantrum in about thirty seconds. I’m the kind of person who throws things for intimidation ( doesn’t work in my marriage- tried it ), yells at the top of my lungs, swearing, cursing and insulting ( also doesn’t work ) and threatens to push people out of moving vehicles (wouldn’t dare try it). I would venture ADHD experiences a similar level of irritation, but his coping mechanisms are a touch different from mine.

“Oh my fucking god. Are you serious?” I asked, rolling my eyes over to meet his when the alarm continued to shriek.
“If that doesn’t stop soon, I am going to firebomb that fucking engine. I see thermite in my futurrrrrre!” He replies, dragging out the last phrase in a singsong voice and flashing a grin at me.
I laugh so hard tears spring to my eyes, til I look over and see he isn’t laughing.
“You don’t think that’s funny?”
He scoffs. “I’ll think it’s hilarious when I’m burning holes in that n*gga’s engine.”

I dissolve into laughter, and tell him I love him.