Partly, this is an “in comparison to you” statement. She gets up before me and she couldn’t be louder. I go to bed after her and I’m as quiet and stealthy as a church mouse. I take a degree of pride in my ability to navigate the pitch black bedroom without waking her. I don’t manage it every time, but the effort is always there, and I think a little acknowledgment isn’t too much to ask.
Instead, on the rare occasions I forget about my gym bag and trip over it as I glide through the room, I inevitably hear her roll over and say, “Nice job, Ninja.” It’s scathing.
Today she confronted me. “You woke me up again last night. I saw you holding your phone in front of you like a flashlight.”
It’s true, I’ve adjusted my methods. The bit of illumination from my phone screen helps me avoid random obstacles on the bedroom floor. I don’t get the thrill of doing it in the dark, but I see the gym bag snares before I step into them. It’s a compromise, but I’m not a purist, it’s the results that count.
“Phbbt! Ninja?! You use a flashlight… You’re a fuck’n flashlight Ninja!”
It’s that lack of respect that really stings.