I don't know if it's just the stags I live with, or if all stags work at a certain SLOW pace that make my blood pressure rise. As much as I love my stags, I cannot sit by and watch them take their time to do stuff. My husband now knows me so well. He knows that if I ask him to help me with a project or moving furniture or whatever, if he makes me wait too long, I will do it myself. I mean, really, why am I waiting so long? Is he operating on someone's heart? Is he solving Hilbert's Sixteenth Problem? No. He is killing monsters on his computer. He claims there is no pause button on these games... MmmHmmm.
Maybe the stag's tolerance for unfinished tasks is higher than a female. We females see underwear on the floor and pick it up. Stags lift their foot higher in order to walk over it. The stack of recycling that needs to be taken our becomes inversely proportional to my level of patience. There is hope, though. After 20 years, some stags show signs of progress and improvement. Maybe in another 20 years, I won't have to remind him anymore.
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