To Share or Not to Share

My husband remarked the other day that he used to think I was a giving person. Oh, spear through the heart. I do desire to be one who shares freely, who gives lavishly, who holds all that has been given to me loosely. Used to be giving. That was hard to hear.

Of course, context here is important. He made this comment while he was in the process of stealing a large swig of water out of my cold water bottle, after his had gotten warm. In my defense, I was protesting, not sharing the of the water, but the amount he was confiscating on that hot, summer day.

However, this has become a recurring theme for the last two days. He was again discussing my inability to share, specifically living space. I have stated that there is absolutely no possible way that I am willing to share even one iota of space with this one. He countered that I'm being a bit greedy, quite a bit selfish. This one is only asking for a small space. He will eat very little.

No. I'm holding my ground on this one. Call me unselfish. Call me cold-hearted if you want. You can even say I'm without compassion. I'm holding my ground. We are not sharing our house with a mouse.

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