out of the woods wrote:
Well, she is right, thats on page one, untill that fact is accepted, there will be no peace. Page two discusses how while she's quite capable, there are things she would rather you do, you know what they are, why must you be reminded for fourty years. Its a fair trade, she cleans the toilet, does she not? Page three discusses differences in shopping styles and why it is best never to accompany her. Then there's matters of taste, wherein, once again, she is right, never attempt to alter or add to the homes decor, especially any permenant fixture as it will haunt you for the remainder of your days together. A side note as this was a recent experience of mine, if she asks you to pick up something easy for dinner, poptarts and frozen waffles is probably not what she had in mind, and bringing her flowers that a coworker was throwing away, probably won't sit so well either.Only 1759 pages to go...
Well, she is right, thats on page one, untill that... (
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Gee, what's wrong with pop tarts, and waffles? Did he forget the six pack to go with them?
About those flowers now. At least he thought about you and hey, he didn't pick them up at the cemetery either!
Let me tell you about my day yesterday and the end result.
So I won the coin toss, and didn't have to go to town on errands. My job was to clean the house. So, taking it seriously, I put a rack of ribs on the smoker, opened a beer, and got busy.
Did laundry, dishes, floors, dusted, vacuumed, bathrooms, everything. Hell, I even pulled out the stove, and fridge, and cleaned under, and behind them. Cleaned the oven too. And I gotta say that the son of a bitch who came up with the idea for black appliances must live in a dust free, streak free utopia!
When she comes home, I'm sitting in a chair by the smoker, beer in hand feeling pretty good about myself as well I should, right?
I help bring in the groceries, and stuff, and put it all up, grab another beer and go back to my chair. Sounds like I'm doing prettygood, huh?
Well, not even five minutes later she comes out, and hands me a bottle of Clorox Cleanup, and a paper towel, and tells me I forgot to move the microwave, and wipe the counter under it.
What the hell is wrong with you people?!