I'm still ripping Andrea's CDs like mad. I've added another box that I call in my head the "I didn't burn this because it's garbage" box, but publicly referred to as the "Burn these if you want them."
I'm not going to mention what's in this box since it might prove my musical taste sucks and/or I'm a racist, sexist pig. The actual box inception was recent and spawned by a minor skirmish. This wasn't a fight, per se - we rarely fight. We prefer a low intensity ground-war with short skirmishes that leave few casualties.
She made the off-hand remark "a lot of my CDs I'm not even sure I want burned anymore, I hardly listen to them." and I said, "Yeah and a bunch of them are utter shit."
Boy did that start a ground war.
Andrea and I are different people. I tend to air my grievances immediately, many times to my own detriment. I do it at work, in my personal life, even on the toilet. It's not that I'm an advanced human being - I don't have these well thought out "I'm feeling this because of that and I feel you should know" or anything like that.
It's just me . . . blurting.
The night I met my fiance I blurted, "You sure are a lot prettier in person than your pictures!"
These were basically the first words she heard out of my mouth.
Andrea doesn't blurt. Andrea is at all times politic. She compiles lists (I call them ammo dumps) and uses them to rebut me when I'm a bigger asshole than normal.
The CD collection battle was one of those, her just rattling off bands that suck that happen to be in my collection.
At least she wasn't going after my nose hairs again, or telling me my goatee looks like a 1970's porn bush.