The alarm on The Husband's side of the bed went off about fifteen minutes ago. No need to check your calendars. I'll vent the collective outrage right here. It's SUNDAY. Why the HELL is the alarm going off? Is Spike coming for brunch?? I haven't made any of those disgusting cucumber and watercress sandwiches. How can I host a brunch?
The alarm went off (On SUNDAY. Before NOON.) because The Husband's baby sister has bought a permanent dwelling and we are supposed to drive hell and gone out there to express our joy at her new home and share our sympathy as people who will owe money to a bank for the rest of our lives, too. I am assuming of course that she took a traditional 30 year mortgage instead of an ARM because if she didn't then she'll only owe the bank for about 48 months after which she'll be on our doorstep, blaming the "predatory lenders" because she was too stupid to read a piece of paper. Yeah I'm so happy and sympathetic, what with being up before noon on Sunday and all. Party whoo hoo. She better have good food.
As I throw off the covers and sit up on my side of the bed I say:
Me: I just thought of something. I don't have to go to this thing.
Him: Whaaa?? Yea you do.
Me: But you hardly ever go to the things I have to go to that do you don't want to go to.
Him: Hey I went to that thing at your sister's house - that Christmas thing or whatever it was.
Me: That's it, though that's the only thing.
Him: Well all the other stuff you want me to go to is with your friends.
Me: HEY. It's not my fault that The Sister is the only blood relative I have who isn't dead!
THEN he tells me we have to leave the house in 45 minutes.
Oh skipping through the tulips happy happy joy smiley sunshine sweetness world peace and no one will ever have to eat burnt toast again!
I told him 45 minutes just isn't going to happen.Labels: husband, personal urban drama |
