Spouses who live together for many years, and did not decide one bright day to throw themselves a rabbinical graduation party, tend over the years to grow closer to each other, learn to love their partner's traits, qualities and shortcomings, and sometimes even adopt some of the traits themselves.
I, for example, learned from the first lady to be more spiritual, to dress better (relative to myself. The fact that I didn't become Yehuda Levy, barely Rami Levy) and to become a calmer person with less waving of hands on the roads.
She, on the other hand, even though as far as I know she likes me, hums and mutters to herself at every opportunity the immortal line that sums up the wonderful song of the Beehive band: "She must definitely be an idiot to share life with an idiot."
Don't think that I'm going to share with you a sweet and sticky column of a marital idyll.
Even in a long-term relationship, the partner has qualities that get on your or her nerves, and the farther you get from the honeymoon you had 30 years ago and 300 fights ago, the longer the list of annoying things gets.
When there are many partners, they tend, in the heat of conflict, to throw things at each other that annoy them, and if you don't have ammunition ready in your head, your hand may be on the bottom.
Women live this matter much more, remember what annoys them even if you wake them up in the middle of the night (only then the fact that you woke them up in the middle of the night will also be added to the list) and in any situation and argument they will pull the list of "the ten most annoying things you do" from the hard drive in their heads with ease and quickly.
The men, on the other hand, are less busy managing the data of the personal accounts, and just want the conflict to end so that at night they can get some kind of hug that might develop into something, or just let them watch TV in peace and without feelings of guilt.
I, for example, don't like the fact that she walks around the house grumpy and muttering to herself unkind words, that even if an alien landed from outer space he would immediately understand that the address they are aiming at is not Hassan Nasrallah or the IRS, but me;
And a second later, when the phone rings, she is suddenly sweet, positive and polite like a candidate to be a Hasidic - or in her case a duck - of the nations of the world.
I also don't like that two hours before guests arrive for dinner, out of pressure she starts giving me instructions in a bossy tone, as if she is a discipline major at a paratrooper base and I'm a gaping rookie, and condescendingly as if slavery has not ended in the world.
It is understood that her list of complaints is much longer, and if they had printed it, it would have come out in several volumes.
She can't stand the noises I make while eating carrot, shrimp, celery, apple and crackers, as if I'm responsible for it and not the pistachio.
She is not happy with my "finish" in the sink after washing dishes, gets annoyed with my sloppy hanging of clothes, with the decisions I make in road matters (Why did you drive from here? Why didn't you put Wise on? Why don't you ask someone? Why don't you listen to me?)
A few days ago I enthusiastically purchased a new type of high-quality gym shoes, plus insoles that were designed for my measurements and toes.
After a few weeks of use, she noticed that the sole was making an annoying noise, reminiscent of something between a creaking door in a horror movie and a pair of porcupines having sex in a rubber-floored attic.
This noise annoyed her so much that she asked me to take off my shoes before entering the house.
As an act of civil rebellion, and in an attempt to preserve some of my self-respect, I told her that I think it is necessary to make a list of all the things that annoy her so that she understands the seriousness of her situation.
Then she said: At the top of the list, write that the thing I hate most about you is all the lists you make: shopping list, to-do list, cut list, invited lists, and with most lists you end up not doing any task - and worst of all, you don't remember where you put the list .
Maybe hang a list on the fridge that says where you put all your lists?!
She only likes strong rosé
Sometimes life shakes you from one extreme to another.
And after you've reached some uplifting peak and everyone applauds you, you come back to reality and come down with the dripping bag of garbage and a cat jumps on you.
This week we performed in a special concert with the Philharmonic Orchestra at the Culture Hall.
It was dignified and exciting, and the feeling of the big orchestra playing your songs in front of a full hall and the bow and brass instruments enveloping you from all directions, is that of a unique and special event.
But before I fly myself, I am obliged with a story no less uplifting but a little less glamorous.
My soldier daughter announced that as part of the course she is taking in the IDF, they are going to make the elderly happy in a small nursing home in Yehud. The first lady asked her what exactly was planned for the meeting, and the little one answered that, among other things, they intend to sing songs with them. "And who will accompany you in singing?" asked my wife. No one," answered the little one, "we'll sing like that."
"Then maybe ask dad to come with his keys and accompany you?"
answered the lady without consulting me.
"Only if he has time, of course."
And so, after the girl asked nicely from me and her commanders, I found myself, two days after the performance with the philharmonic in front of 2,000 people, loading keyboards and an amplifier into the luggage, and like a self-appointed tour guide showing up at the aforementioned nursing home as an accompanist for public singing.
The place was packed with soldiers and elderly people, and I wondered who exactly was running the event and how I could advance the plot to an afternoon where elderly people are made happy by singing in public.
I realized that there is a triple challenge here: I need to find songs that I know and can play, that the elderly will be happy to sing, and that the 18-year-old soldiers, whose favorite musical genre is Tiktok, will also recognize.
Not an easy task considering the age gap of 70 years which at today's pace feels like 700.
In the 1950s, the elderly danced a twist and sang Israel Itzhaki's "Abba, come to the amusement park" and in the eyes of these soldiers, even Static, Ben-El and Noa Kirel are already elderly who should start looking for a nursing home.
I decided to play it safe and sent the group Yehoram Gaon's "Rosa Rosa", "Havano Shalom Aleichem", "Hava Nagila" (which I was afraid some of the young people would think was talking about hookah smoking) and a few more temporary songs in this style, and everyone broke out in great singing.
Moral: It's nice to be invited to play with the Philharmonic, but the chances of it happening again are slim.
And it's also better to know how to play "Rosa Rosa", because you will surely end up in a nursing home someday.
in the small
I'm not overly excited by nonsense people say, because there are idiots, and in large quantities.
But I was moved by Haim Cohen's text about the sponge and his mother.
I have always liked Haim Cohen, a genuine and talented man with a huge heart, who donates and hosts Holocaust survivors in his restaurants without telling anyone.
After his post I like him even more.
were we wrong
We will fix it!
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