I rarely start a fight when I think I might possibly be in the wrong, but it does happen. I am usually right. On occasion, it is necessary to apologize to my husband even though he was most definitely in the wrong. I am grateful during these times that he has been satisfied by my "sorrys" through clenched teeth with a look of death in my eyes.
Logically, I cannot always be right (grrr). I am pretty sure that it is not actually acceptable to start a fight because my husband is not able to locate the butter in the refrigerator, even though it is kept behind the little clear door in the fridge marked "butter" causing me to get up from a very cozy position on the couch. For the hundredth time.
Slight matters of il-logic also play a part in packing, which brings me to today. I am throwing a handicap placard burning party today. When I got the placard 4 years ago, my husband had worried that I would not be around to renew it. My blue pass expires this month, so my genius husband (I know, I know - now I call him a genius) said we should throw a party. Mom and Dirk's house is twice the size of mine and has a lake in back, so they graciously offered their place for us to use. One of my guests is my aunt who stayed with us last night.
This morning she came into the living room complaining about her lack of under packing. It seems as though there are only two ways to pack 1) as if you will never see home again and you will only ever have what you bring with you 2) as if you were backpacking in Europe where no one you know will ever have knowledge that you did not use eyeliner for a month.
(blog abruptly ended because of excitement over potential shopping and lunch with aunt)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Can't we all relate.
ReplyDelete