Husband and I have a relationship that on occasion makes the War of the Roses look tame. Folk wonder why we stay hitched and sometimes - so do I. But he has nice eyes and is a good kisser, so you know, I stick around.
The other morning perfectly illustrates our relationship:
It was frostier than Jack Frost's nose on Thursday morning. I was running late as it was Sproglette's 2nd b'day and we had done the cake and all those kind of shenanigans to wish her a happy 2nd. We eat cake for breakfast on birthdays - is the rule. So I was dashing around all wet hair and lists and stress and remember to take the salmon out of the freezer, and pay Sproglet's dinner money etc and glancing out the window I saw my car was an icicle.
My de-icer spray is broken - so is more of a spill than spray, and with hair still dripping and a make-up less face (a sight no neighbour should have to endure), I begged Husband to shuffle outside and de-ice the car. He refused.
I begged a bit, did the usual 'I'll remember that next time you ask me to pick up the dry cleaning... or make you tea or iron.... (then I remembered I don't actually iron - ever) blah blah' and still he refused. So I stormed out the door, into the Arctic air and strode across to my black car.
It was so icy that the door wouldn't open. I tried several times to beep the keys open and shut - but it wasn't doing. De-icer was IN the car. Damn! So I strode back in the house, cursed Husband again and grabbed a kettle (boiled about half an hour ago).
I marched back across the road, cold seeping into my very bones, and tipped the hot water over the windows and watched the ice steam away. Just as I poured the last drop, I saw through the almost clear windscreen and noticed the Audi circles on the steering wheel.
I don't own an Audi sadly. It wasn't my car. My car was a few feet away - black too - and still covered in a thick layer ice.
Fuming - steam coming out my own ice pop ears - I stomped back inside cursing Husband ever more - he thought it was hilarious. Then I opened car, sprinkled de-icer and about 15 mins later my car had thawed but my temper hadn't. As I gathered all the bags and blanket of Sproglette's and scripts for work, and moaned that I would be late - if only he'd bothered to help me with my de-icing hell, an unholy stench enveloped my nostrils and I heard Husband groan. Hurrah! Sproglette had filled her nappy and stunk to high heaven.
Karma! So as he cursed and used fifty million wipes to wade through the mess, I revelled in her perfect timing. Well done my girl! If only he'd offered to de-ice the car eh?
I gloated the whole way to the nursery.
And that is the way we roll at my house - happy when the other is up to their eyes in crap.
The other morning perfectly illustrates our relationship:
It was frostier than Jack Frost's nose on Thursday morning. I was running late as it was Sproglette's 2nd b'day and we had done the cake and all those kind of shenanigans to wish her a happy 2nd. We eat cake for breakfast on birthdays - is the rule. So I was dashing around all wet hair and lists and stress and remember to take the salmon out of the freezer, and pay Sproglet's dinner money etc and glancing out the window I saw my car was an icicle.
My de-icer spray is broken - so is more of a spill than spray, and with hair still dripping and a make-up less face (a sight no neighbour should have to endure), I begged Husband to shuffle outside and de-ice the car. He refused.
I begged a bit, did the usual 'I'll remember that next time you ask me to pick up the dry cleaning... or make you tea or iron.... (then I remembered I don't actually iron - ever) blah blah' and still he refused. So I stormed out the door, into the Arctic air and strode across to my black car.
It was so icy that the door wouldn't open. I tried several times to beep the keys open and shut - but it wasn't doing. De-icer was IN the car. Damn! So I strode back in the house, cursed Husband again and grabbed a kettle (boiled about half an hour ago).
I marched back across the road, cold seeping into my very bones, and tipped the hot water over the windows and watched the ice steam away. Just as I poured the last drop, I saw through the almost clear windscreen and noticed the Audi circles on the steering wheel.
I don't own an Audi sadly. It wasn't my car. My car was a few feet away - black too - and still covered in a thick layer ice.
Fuming - steam coming out my own ice pop ears - I stomped back inside cursing Husband ever more - he thought it was hilarious. Then I opened car, sprinkled de-icer and about 15 mins later my car had thawed but my temper hadn't. As I gathered all the bags and blanket of Sproglette's and scripts for work, and moaned that I would be late - if only he'd bothered to help me with my de-icing hell, an unholy stench enveloped my nostrils and I heard Husband groan. Hurrah! Sproglette had filled her nappy and stunk to high heaven.
Karma! So as he cursed and used fifty million wipes to wade through the mess, I revelled in her perfect timing. Well done my girl! If only he'd offered to de-ice the car eh?
I gloated the whole way to the nursery.
And that is the way we roll at my house - happy when the other is up to their eyes in crap.
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