Aside from the obvious cure of becoming a knife-thrower with bad aim, I don't know what I'm going to do with this man of mine. I'm beginning to think that he has a gift for making me homicidal...so, it's not a rare gift, but still.
As y'all are aware, Sparky died
I'd prefer it if he'd do like he did when his brother passed away... got drunk as hell and rode around on the John Deere calling every number he had in his cell phone to expound upon the lessons he had learned in life until he ran out of gas, threw up, and passed out. I'm just not that lucky this time. No, this time, he's exacting his revenge against me because I never loved Sparky. (Yeah, guilty, so fucking what?)
Anyway... as I was lying down in an attempt to keep my eyeballs from jumping out of their sockets and stabbing me in the forehead with machetes, my husband decided that the sound system was not producing the optimal
I had already taken deep breaths and called my sister for my own sanity intervention, because I know how I get. And instead of completing the job, he sat his ass down and had to test the sound of the system with AC/DC and Ozzy, while the living room was still so torn up that the only one that could get into the room was someone already IN the room... in other words not me. In other words, I couldn't get back to the computer room
Let me tell you something about my man. He is not a planner. Nor does he have any give-a-damn for anyone else when it comes to his *expletivesosevereithasbeendeleted* home theater system. As in, it's too crowded in here, so I'm pitching, LITERALLY PITCHING, as in out the back door onto the lawn, the entire bookcase... Oh, he saved the books, but all of the magazines on it, including my entire collection of House Beautiful
Once again *all together now, cause you know exactly what's coming* This. Is. Where. I. Lost. It. (and where I, in retrospect, give my extreme gratitude to the Universe that my son was completely engrossed in Harry Potter in the back room and was clueless to what was going on.)
I went into the bedroom and started unloading the drawers of his stereo magazines. The ones that he has read and re-read like a porn addict with a lone copy of Playboy... and I flung them in piles out the back door just as he had done with the bookcase... all bajillion-gazillion of them. Punctuated with an exclamation point in the form of pitching out the plastic drawers we got a while back to keep them in... (once it was empty, cause that thing was heavy!) Because I am nothing if not an eye-for-an-eye kind of gal.
It took most of the next day and my rescuing all but the October '08 issue of House Beautiful before we spoke again, and wouldn't you know it? The living room and bookshelves were not the issue. There was another deeper issue that needed to be addressed and worked through.
However, we've run out of money 4 days before payday, and hubby is out of smokes... so the next post may well be full of more
"And how was your weekend?" She trilled in a Disney-princess-sing-song with a plastic smile that she didn't mean for one millisecond shellacked across her face...
For a way funnier post about feuding with your husband from a much better blogger than me, go here.