Hassocks

You say potaytoe and I say potahtoe. My poor husband. I was looking for my phone this morning and he said its on the hassock. My reaction....YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THAT WORD! ITS OTTOMAN G* DAMMIT! YOU SAID IT ON PURPOSE, I KNOW YOU DID. He was a tad perplexed. I stopped...I breathed...I said, did you say it on purpose because you knew I didn't like that word, because that's one thing? (and its not unusual for him to say things to "get" to me.) Or did you just say it. He said, I just said it. That's the word I use. Its the first one that comes to mind what am I supposed to call it. I said, that word is just all wrapped up in the ugly little round plastic brown"hassocks" we used to have when I was growing up. And its all wrapped up in how I feel about growing up and my parents. I think of them (hassocks not my parents) as ottomans now. My pretty paisley & leather large ottoman that we practically use for a table in the living room and my little tufted fringed green and black ottoman in the foyer. They are ottomans not hassocks. Of course when I looked up hassocks on google for a picture, all I could find were ottomans. This was a close as I could come to what I remember a hassock being and it definatly didn't have any nice wooden feet on it. I'd call this an ottoman. But picture it small, round with no feet and an ugly tan color. Anyway...on edge lately? :)

What I am grateful for is that I could stop. In the past this would have turned into a day long resentment for me. I understand now that my feelings were aroused my how I feel about my parents, my relationship with my husband and had nothing to do with the word hassock. I was able to tell my husband that instead of ranting at him. Find out what his motivations were instead of assuming it was to hurt me. Talk about it and then request very nicely that he NOT say that word again. He will. And that's okay too. I'm over it.