The other night I was sitting on my end of the comfy couch trying to have a frank discussion with my husband about his mother effing snoring.
Incidentally, don't you think "frank" is a funny word to use in a sentence like that? I do. That's why I used it.
So anyway the conversation went something like this:
Me: "We're about to have a frank discussion about the mother fucking snoring situation."
Him, distractedly and not the least bit scared: "Can we do it after Alaskan Frontier?"
Me: "NO! It's getting close to the time when we go up to bed and every single night you've been snoring in my face!"
Him, turning towards me: "You're really eating that cheese aggressively."
Me: "Well! Aren't you sick of me stabbing your calf with my dagger-like sharp toenail? Getting poked in the eyeball? A knee in the back? A miscellaneous hair pull?"
Him: "Is that why I have so many unexplained bruises on the back of my leg? I was wondering about that."
Me: "I'd like to think I've been very kind about your illness so far, but its literally been since THANKSGIVING! It's time to take your balls off the mantle and stop milking this ::air quote:: "asthma" condition you are plagued with, ALEX. Some people need to sleep."
Him: "You called me Alex. I'm going to go out on a limb here and suggest you are a little angry."
Me: "You knew that was one of my top five deal breakers when we got married!"
Him, calmly, as usual: "But I cant help it. It's out of my control."
Me: "Just because you have ::air quotes again:: "shitty lungs" doesn't mean I should suffer every night for all of the god damn live long day!"
Him: Silently glancing between me and Alaskan Frontier. Clearly not taking me seriously.
Me: "Well I'm asking the painter to paint your brand new bedroom a more masculine color."
Him: "That's not very nice. It's kind of chilly in there with nobody to snuggle."
Me: "Well, pull your shit together ALEX, or you're OUT."
Him, turning back towards Alaskan Frontier: "Hey do you want a devil dog?"
Me: "Does a bear poop?"
Him, getting up: "You know it."
And then we ate a Devil Dog and went to bed. And he snored in my face til 3:00 am.
I am CRANKY.
I don't necessarily think it is my fault though.
Like, I asked a nameless man who lives in this house to please go into the (finished) basement to carry up my vacuum for me. Because I have a bad back, and it's heavy. So, no prob, the nameless man totally did it, which was great. But then I went to close the basement door, and saw that the pile of clothes that I had left on the stairs to go down to the bins the next time I went down there (I keep all of the outgrown clothes in bins in the basement), was still in the same spot - completely obstructing the way down the stairs.
So one might assume that if you literally, and I mean literally, have to jump over the pile and down at least two stairs to get past the stuff obstructing your way to the basement, you may think that in your empty arms, you could carry them down along with you! No extra trip, no special hardship. Right???!
Would you ever just leap over a pile of things that are in your way, that you know full well doesn't belong there??!
I swear to both Cod and Baby Jesus that there was a discarded goldfish cracker noticeably on the kitchen floor of my house for over a week, which nobody in this entire place had the inclination to pick up and throw away. I was doing a little test, and everybody failed!!!
OMG. Is it just me? Is it just that (some) people can be incredibly dumb oblivious?
Am I the only one who feels like you need to make every trip count?? If I go from downstairs to upstairs, you can bet your ass that I am carrying something. I mean, obviously. It's that much less that I have to do eventually.
If I am straightening my house (as I do on a daily basis), I put all of the stuff that needs to go upstairs on the stairs. That way I believe, in my infinite wisdom, when someone is going upstairs and they see their doll or book or dirty socks, they can just bend down and grab the thing and carry it up to where it ultimately belongs. I think that makes a lot of sense.
I seriously must be the only one who thinks this makes a lot of sense.
So anyway, the nameless man dilly-dallied under the mistletoe for a long time before he left for work today. Let's just say that he did not get a lengthy mistletoe-worthy kiss. I was too busy feeling cranky. And I'll karate chop anyone that suggests it has anything to do with me "getting ready to go on vacation" this week.
