If you came here to read a blog post about my witty, sarcastic, intelligent, beautiful offspring then you should probably skip this post. Because they aren't factoring in to today's post. This one is just about me & Mike (so our fans can totally stay, pull up a chair and get a fresh cup of coffee). The kids were home this weekend, and chaos ensued, but then they left again Sunday morning. And do you know what? For the first time ever, I was actually glad to see their backs as they headed out the door. For real. I'm not sure if this makes me a bad mom or not. We'll figure that out in another post.
So it's Sunday and Mike & I are once again alone. It's funny because if you'd have asked me 6 months ago, hell, even 3 months ago, how Mike & I were going to be when the kids left I would have shrugged. We'd really come to a point where we did our own things. I had my writing, my friends, my kids. He had his job, his hunting, his friends and the kids. But honestly, we didn't spend much time together. We don't like the same kind of TV, movies or music. I adore the beach, he calls it the "big puddle". I love to travel, he'd rather be home. Mostly when we talked it was about the kids. When we did go out on rare occasions, after we'd exhausted the topic of our offspring, we ran out of things to say. It just became easier to spend our time apart. Did this worry me? Maybe a little, if I'm honest (and you KNOW that I am). But it wasn't like a "I'm divorcing you" kind of thing. I mean, I knew we still loved each other. I just thought I might be a bit lonely and bored when the kids were gone.
Funny how life happens, isn't it? Because since Mike's accident, we've spent scads of time alone. The time in the hospital doesn't really count. But once we came home we've had the opportunity to really spend a lot (all) of our time together. And what we've come to find out is that we do just fine. In fact, we do great. We can compromise on TV, movies and music. We can talk about his hunting and my writing. We can simply bask in each other's company. We can curl up together in the recliner and "snuggle". (We also tend to fall asleep that way, prompting Lu to call us "cute" and take photos. No, I will not post them.) And we can have fun together.
Yesterday, we went on a mini adventure. We had a rescue cat that needed a new home. The new home was in Chicago. The person to take her to the new home was in Pekin. So we got on MapQuest, figured out that Pekin was about the same distance from our house at Springfield and said "what the heck, let's go to Pekin". But there's really not much in Pekin that interested us, so we decided that after we dropped the cat off, we'd go to Peoria (another 25 minutes) and eat at Olive Garden and visit Barnes & Noble (okay B&N was really my idea, Mike's not so much).
The drive to Pekin wasn't too bad. Lots of two lane roads through the country. Unfortunately, MapQuest? Not so hot with the directions. We kept looking for our road to turn into the roads that MapQuest said it would, but that didn't happen. Fortunately, I'm handy with an Atlas and direction. So we made the turns we needed to and didn't get lost. We did see a lot of country side. And corn. And beans. And cows. And tiny towns. The tiny town of Astoria Illinois has the worst roads ever. Seriously there was a sign that said "rough road next 10 miles". Dude. Apparently they missed the 6 miles of rough road before the sign. And coming out of there? We got stuck behind "Ashy 89" (according to her license plates) who was doing 30 mph on a 55 mph two lane highway. And the road was all curvy and hilly so I couldn't pass.
Me: Why the hell are we going so slow?
Mike: Because we're stuck behind Ashy.
Me: Yeah, but why is Ashy going so slow?
Mike: (reading a roadside sign) Woodland Church of the Brethren
Me: That sounds like the church from Children of the Corn. Maybe Ashy's scared one of the Children of the Corn will jump in front of her car and that's why she's going so slow.
Mike: Maybe Ashy IS one of the Children of the Corn and she's driving slow so that they can get us.
Me: Um. My mind already went there and then shied away. Do you really want to play that game on these tiny roads hemmed in by corn??
Luckily, nothing got us. I did see a ton of little cemeteries, but I forgot my camera. Next time I'm bringing it and stopping. We made it to Pekin, dropped off the cat and headed to Peoria. Which is where we found out that Mike is a horrible navigator. Really. Just don't even listen to him. Thankfully, growing up in the backseat of a car gives you an innate sense of direction, a skilled ability to read highway signs, amazing powers of observation and a sense of adventure.
In Peoria we ate at Olive Garden. Mmmmmmm. Delicious. I had the mezzaluna ravioli with steak medallions. Mike had the Tour of Italy. And we shared dessert. Yummy. Thank you Peg and Dwight for the gift card!! Then we headed to the bookstore. They didn't have the books I wanted. And the ones they did have? Well, I can get them at Amazon cheaper. I did pick up a bargain book of vampire stories. Mike sat in a chair and waited for me.
Then we headed home. The drive back was easy. I knew exactly where to go. Mike would get a little antsy and be all "do you know where you're going?" or "are we on the right road?". But I did and we were. I'd point out things we'd passed to reassure him, but he didn't remember any of them. So then he fell asleep. And I meandered us back home.
It was a lovely day and a lovely adventure. I did feel a bit guilty that the kids missed Olive Garden because they are little foodies. But I did enjoy the peaceful drive. So when the kids move out for good? I think we're going to do just fine. No. I think we're going to do great.
Happy Monday,
♥Spot
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Showing posts with label marriage. Show all posts
Monday, July 19, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
My "fairy-tale" marriage...
I want to thank everyone for your comments on yesterday's post. I enjoyed writing it. And I'm going to get some of our old photos put on disks so that I can use them in future blog posts. But in the interest of not furthering the "romance fantasy" as I call it, I want to point out that while we've been together for 22 years, it wasn't easy. We've probably had as many downs as ups and some days the fact that he's breathing the same oxygen as me is on my nerves. And I'm sure there are days when he looks at me and wonders if I'd melt if he threw water on me like the Wicked Witch of the West. I think that true love is finding someone who likes you even when you may not like yourself and accepts you for who you are inside. And is willing to work with you to get through the bad things because they have faith that there are more good times on the other side. And then you hang on to them for dear life! As my mother succinctly put it yesterday~
Marriage is a full time job.
Romantic? No. True? Oh yes. And I think that's a lot of why there are such high divorce rates these days. People watch movies and get the idea that true love is easy. It falls into your lap and then you live happily ever after. False. True love falls into your lap and then you bust your ass to keep it there. I'm pretty sure there were days after the fairy tale ending that Cinderella wanted to throw those glass slippers at Prince Charming's head. Probably because he forgot to take out the garbage again. Or he went hunting when he knew she'd been stuck at home with three small sick children all week. Or he forgot to pick up bread at the grocery store when she specifically asked him to not five minutes before he walked out the door. Shit happens. Every day. Bigger shit than that happens. Believe me. But the determination to stick it out and make things work is what keeps people together. The idea that this person is worth the effort. Remembering what you saw in them in the first place and knowing that that part of them is still there. Finding new things to respect and admire about them. You don't just toss out people like you would a pair of jeans with a hole in them. You don't just go buy another pair. You slap a cute patch on that hole and sew that puppy up!
Alot of people we've known through the years have thought we had a "fairy tale" marriage. I'd like to disabuse everyone of that notion. Because that would imply that it's easy to maintain. Oh hell no!! There have been days when it was like cleaning out a septic tank let me tell you. But the fact is we both put on our coveralls, hip boots and gloves and waded through the shit to clear things up. And never doubt communication is key. Like any other couple, we fight. Alot. Because even if you're fighting, you're still communicating. We don't attack each other. We would never call each other stupid, worthless or worse. But don't think I don't yell. And sometimes throw things. But unbreakable stuff like tupperware. Because I learned that lesson. Hubby's not really much of a voice raiser. And he's definitely not a thrower. He's way more laid back than me. And if we're fighting over something stupid? I usually slam out of the room dramatically and shut myself in my room until I've calmed down. If I'm wrong? I apologize. If I'm not? Then I decide if it's really a big deal or not. Choose your battles. If we're fighting because of something important like one of us feels taken for granted? Or hurt? Then we talk it over. We go somewhere quiet, away from the phone and the kids. And we say "I feel this way. And I feel this way because..." and we give the other person a chance to say "I didn't mean to make you feel this way. Let's change this". Does it always work? No. Do things really change? Not always. But just the act of getting it out there and knowing maybe the other person didn't mean to make you feel that way is sometimes enough of a solution in itself.
I'll stop preaching now. And I promise that tomorrow I'll be funny. And I apologize for all the analogies. In the end...I just want to add on to my mom's statement~
Marriage is a full time job. The work is hard. The pay is bad. And the hours are long. But the benefits make it completely worth it. Don't do it for the money. Do it for the love.
♥Spot
Disclaimer~ If you are in a bad relationship, being abused either physically or mentally, being cheated on repeatedly (Mrs. Tiger Woods this means you!), or neglected, I am absolutely not saying you can work it out. Get out now. Because people like that don't change and they aren't worth the effort. Sometimes you have to return those jeans because they just don't fit. Or they make your ass look huge.
Marriage is a full time job.
Romantic? No. True? Oh yes. And I think that's a lot of why there are such high divorce rates these days. People watch movies and get the idea that true love is easy. It falls into your lap and then you live happily ever after. False. True love falls into your lap and then you bust your ass to keep it there. I'm pretty sure there were days after the fairy tale ending that Cinderella wanted to throw those glass slippers at Prince Charming's head. Probably because he forgot to take out the garbage again. Or he went hunting when he knew she'd been stuck at home with three small sick children all week. Or he forgot to pick up bread at the grocery store when she specifically asked him to not five minutes before he walked out the door. Shit happens. Every day. Bigger shit than that happens. Believe me. But the determination to stick it out and make things work is what keeps people together. The idea that this person is worth the effort. Remembering what you saw in them in the first place and knowing that that part of them is still there. Finding new things to respect and admire about them. You don't just toss out people like you would a pair of jeans with a hole in them. You don't just go buy another pair. You slap a cute patch on that hole and sew that puppy up!
Alot of people we've known through the years have thought we had a "fairy tale" marriage. I'd like to disabuse everyone of that notion. Because that would imply that it's easy to maintain. Oh hell no!! There have been days when it was like cleaning out a septic tank let me tell you. But the fact is we both put on our coveralls, hip boots and gloves and waded through the shit to clear things up. And never doubt communication is key. Like any other couple, we fight. Alot. Because even if you're fighting, you're still communicating. We don't attack each other. We would never call each other stupid, worthless or worse. But don't think I don't yell. And sometimes throw things. But unbreakable stuff like tupperware. Because I learned that lesson. Hubby's not really much of a voice raiser. And he's definitely not a thrower. He's way more laid back than me. And if we're fighting over something stupid? I usually slam out of the room dramatically and shut myself in my room until I've calmed down. If I'm wrong? I apologize. If I'm not? Then I decide if it's really a big deal or not. Choose your battles. If we're fighting because of something important like one of us feels taken for granted? Or hurt? Then we talk it over. We go somewhere quiet, away from the phone and the kids. And we say "I feel this way. And I feel this way because..." and we give the other person a chance to say "I didn't mean to make you feel this way. Let's change this". Does it always work? No. Do things really change? Not always. But just the act of getting it out there and knowing maybe the other person didn't mean to make you feel that way is sometimes enough of a solution in itself.
I'll stop preaching now. And I promise that tomorrow I'll be funny. And I apologize for all the analogies. In the end...I just want to add on to my mom's statement~
Marriage is a full time job. The work is hard. The pay is bad. And the hours are long. But the benefits make it completely worth it. Don't do it for the money. Do it for the love.
♥Spot
Disclaimer~ If you are in a bad relationship, being abused either physically or mentally, being cheated on repeatedly (Mrs. Tiger Woods this means you!), or neglected, I am absolutely not saying you can work it out. Get out now. Because people like that don't change and they aren't worth the effort. Sometimes you have to return those jeans because they just don't fit. Or they make your ass look huge.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Long long ago in a land far far away or at least thirty minutes south...
So guess what happened 22 years ago yesterday? My husband and I had our first date. And the only reason he remembered was because Sean texted him the night before. The kids and I were out to dinner and I told them. Sean immediately texted his father so that he would have a heads up because he knew he wouldn't remember on his own. Lu's only comment was "you're not going to make spaghetti are you?". She hates spaghetti. But hubby worked in a Spaghetti restaurant when we were young and we ate spaghetti alot. I mean a whole lot. Because it was free and we were poor. So alot of times we fix it to commemorate anniversaries or we go eat at the Spaghetti house. And no, even with the heads up, he didn't do anything romantic for me. Unless you count fixing the dishwasher because I kind of do. But we have an odd idea of romantic. No, the grand gesture better come next month when we celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary. But I'm going to pay tribute to him today.
I just browsed through some of my old blog posts, thinking maybe I already told the story of our first date. I didn't see it and since some of you are new, you wouldn't know it anyway. If you do, please skip ahead to the end. Really, I don't mind.
I moved back to America in November of 1987 and having graduated high school, being 17 and full of myself, I'd decided I didn't want to accompany my family to my Dad's next base in New Mexico. My parents weren't happy about this but we all know you can't tell a 17 year old anything. So the deal was I'd move in with my Grandma and go to Community College for two years and then transfer to University. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men. And teenage girls. So I moved here to this little town in Illinois. Just a stopping point on my life's map. Or so I thought. I have a male cousin who's 18 months younger than me and since we were the closest in age, we hung out alot growing up. He was glad I was in town and called me up to see if I wanted to hit a movie with him and a friend. I did and met my husband. I'd been in town 3 days. He was my cousin's best friend. And he was hott. I remember making him show me his driver's license because I didn't believe he was younger than me. I didn't date younger guys. It was love (or lust) at first sight. What my family calls "lightening love" because it strikes fast and out of the blue. I even remember what he was wearing that night. Blue jeans (ripped of course), white high tops, black tshirt and an old army fatigue jacket. I have no idea what I was wearing.
Obviously, there were inherent problems. I was older and in my first year of college. He was still in high school and had been held back in first grade so he was only a sophomore. I was a world traveler who excelled at school. He was a river rat who never wanted to leave this area and slept through school when he wasn't in detention. Oh yeah, he was a bad boy and I was in love. Now I'd never ever really had to chase a guy and swore no guy was worth that. But I wasn't above strategy. You know, casually ending up in the same place or the even more devious dressing seductively and "omigosh! did you just look down my shirt?" ploys. No, I wasn't exactly innocent. But after two months of hanging out constantly, a couple of drunken make out sessions, and me pulling out all my best tricks, he still hadn't asked me out. I was completely confused and flabbergasted. Then he wrecked my car.
Yeah, you heard me right. He wrecked my car. Or rather, my parents car. It had been a wrestling tournament and he was a wrestler. A bunch of us were at the meet and he'd lost his match the night before so we were just there supporting those who were still competing. One of his friends wanted a ride to a party and I had no desire to give the guy a ride (he had a habit of punching me in the arm, hubby swears it was because the guy liked me, I think it was because he was deranged) so I gave hubby my keys. Well the next thing I know he's back, he's pissed and he says "I hit a kid". Once I'd calmed down and realized he hadn't actually run over a kid (a bit of a language barrier from all the time I'd spent in England), my heart sunk. We were both in a world of trouble. But he was so upset with himself, that I spent most of the night trying to calm him down. We had our first sober kiss on my Grandma's front porch. Both sets of parents were hopping mad and my car was undrivable. So he spent the next week driving me to work & my classes when he could. And that Friday night...
I was supposed to go to a basketball game at the university with my college friends, but I didn't like basketball (which is funny because now I love to watch it) and I wanted to see him. So I called him to see what he and my cuz were doing. This wasn't unusual, we talked on the phone alot. And he said my cuz was going to the basketball game and he hated "pumpkin pushers" (it's a wrestler/bball player hate thing in this town) and didn't want to go. I said ditto and maybe he should go to a movie~
him: Alone? That would be dorky.
Me: duh. Take a girl. You know, like a date?
Him: Oh. Well what girl? (my god, he really was a moron)
Me: Um. How should I know? Hey, ask your little sister. Sisters always know who you like. (crossing my fingers in hopes that his little sister did.)
Him: Hey Keely! Who should I take to the movies tonight?
Keely: I don't know. Who are you talking to?
Him: Stacey
Keely: Then ask her dummy!
Him: Um. So you want to go to a movie?
Me: (Not about to cut him any slack) You mean without Shannon? Like just the two of us? On a date?
Him: Um. Yeah. I guess so.
Me: Well, OK. I guess. Pick me up 6:30.
And yes, I was totally jumping up and down and mouthing "yes!". So I hung up and went to the bathroom to finish putting on makeup. My seven year old cousin was standing there watching me dance around going "I have a date!" She said "you always have a date, what's the big deal?" And I replied "but this is one I actually like!"
We went to the movies. Remember that Molly Ringwald movie "For Keeps"? Yep, that's what we saw. (And wasn't that slightly prophetic?) And then we hung out afterwards and everywhere we went people asked "where's Shannon?" Everyone was so used to seeing the three of us together. And the next question was "are you guys like on a date then?". And we'd look at each other sheepishly and answer "yes". He drove me home in his huge ass beatup pickup truck and after coming up for air after an extended bout of kissing, it finally came out that he'd like liked me since the night we met but he figured I'd never date someone like him. And he was intimidated by the parade of college guys I dated. I told him that had all been to make him jealous and that I thought I'd practically thrown myself at him and it was about time he finally caught me. And then my cousin came by where we were parked outside Grandma's house and told me it was time to get my ass inside. That just because I was with his best friend didn't mean he wasn't going to protect my virtue (what virtue??). I laughed, but went inside so hubby would make it home by his curfew. After that night? Inseparable. We started talking about "when we get married" two weeks later where he officially "married" me with a beer tab ring. Twenty two years flies by so fast. Thank you Shannon for introducing us and being best man at our wedding and godfather to our first child, with whom you share a birthday. Thank you Keely for being smart enough to know who your idiot brother should ask out even though you were only eleven. And for being godmother to our daughter. And for countless babysitting hours.
And to everyone who thought we were too young (omygodyouweresorightwewerejustbabiesourselves!)~ in your face! Because 22 years later we're still standing here together, happy more than not, and I can't imagine having shared this journey with anyone else. As much as he drives me crazy, he's still my best friend, the one who knows my secrets, holds my tears and never ever doubts me. He encourages me to go for my dreams, be who I am and live life on my terms. His love makes me fearless. Because no matter how bad I screw up he forgives and loves me anyway.
My husband, my hero.
This summer (he may have been slightly intoxicated and laughing his ass off)~
This winter~
I just browsed through some of my old blog posts, thinking maybe I already told the story of our first date. I didn't see it and since some of you are new, you wouldn't know it anyway. If you do, please skip ahead to the end. Really, I don't mind.
I moved back to America in November of 1987 and having graduated high school, being 17 and full of myself, I'd decided I didn't want to accompany my family to my Dad's next base in New Mexico. My parents weren't happy about this but we all know you can't tell a 17 year old anything. So the deal was I'd move in with my Grandma and go to Community College for two years and then transfer to University. Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men. And teenage girls. So I moved here to this little town in Illinois. Just a stopping point on my life's map. Or so I thought. I have a male cousin who's 18 months younger than me and since we were the closest in age, we hung out alot growing up. He was glad I was in town and called me up to see if I wanted to hit a movie with him and a friend. I did and met my husband. I'd been in town 3 days. He was my cousin's best friend. And he was hott. I remember making him show me his driver's license because I didn't believe he was younger than me. I didn't date younger guys. It was love (or lust) at first sight. What my family calls "lightening love" because it strikes fast and out of the blue. I even remember what he was wearing that night. Blue jeans (ripped of course), white high tops, black tshirt and an old army fatigue jacket. I have no idea what I was wearing.
Obviously, there were inherent problems. I was older and in my first year of college. He was still in high school and had been held back in first grade so he was only a sophomore. I was a world traveler who excelled at school. He was a river rat who never wanted to leave this area and slept through school when he wasn't in detention. Oh yeah, he was a bad boy and I was in love. Now I'd never ever really had to chase a guy and swore no guy was worth that. But I wasn't above strategy. You know, casually ending up in the same place or the even more devious dressing seductively and "omigosh! did you just look down my shirt?" ploys. No, I wasn't exactly innocent. But after two months of hanging out constantly, a couple of drunken make out sessions, and me pulling out all my best tricks, he still hadn't asked me out. I was completely confused and flabbergasted. Then he wrecked my car.
Yeah, you heard me right. He wrecked my car. Or rather, my parents car. It had been a wrestling tournament and he was a wrestler. A bunch of us were at the meet and he'd lost his match the night before so we were just there supporting those who were still competing. One of his friends wanted a ride to a party and I had no desire to give the guy a ride (he had a habit of punching me in the arm, hubby swears it was because the guy liked me, I think it was because he was deranged) so I gave hubby my keys. Well the next thing I know he's back, he's pissed and he says "I hit a kid". Once I'd calmed down and realized he hadn't actually run over a kid (a bit of a language barrier from all the time I'd spent in England), my heart sunk. We were both in a world of trouble. But he was so upset with himself, that I spent most of the night trying to calm him down. We had our first sober kiss on my Grandma's front porch. Both sets of parents were hopping mad and my car was undrivable. So he spent the next week driving me to work & my classes when he could. And that Friday night...
I was supposed to go to a basketball game at the university with my college friends, but I didn't like basketball (which is funny because now I love to watch it) and I wanted to see him. So I called him to see what he and my cuz were doing. This wasn't unusual, we talked on the phone alot. And he said my cuz was going to the basketball game and he hated "pumpkin pushers" (it's a wrestler/bball player hate thing in this town) and didn't want to go. I said ditto and maybe he should go to a movie~
him: Alone? That would be dorky.
Me: duh. Take a girl. You know, like a date?
Him: Oh. Well what girl? (my god, he really was a moron)
Me: Um. How should I know? Hey, ask your little sister. Sisters always know who you like. (crossing my fingers in hopes that his little sister did.)
Him: Hey Keely! Who should I take to the movies tonight?
Keely: I don't know. Who are you talking to?
Him: Stacey
Keely: Then ask her dummy!
Him: Um. So you want to go to a movie?
Me: (Not about to cut him any slack) You mean without Shannon? Like just the two of us? On a date?
Him: Um. Yeah. I guess so.
Me: Well, OK. I guess. Pick me up 6:30.
And yes, I was totally jumping up and down and mouthing "yes!". So I hung up and went to the bathroom to finish putting on makeup. My seven year old cousin was standing there watching me dance around going "I have a date!" She said "you always have a date, what's the big deal?" And I replied "but this is one I actually like!"
We went to the movies. Remember that Molly Ringwald movie "For Keeps"? Yep, that's what we saw. (And wasn't that slightly prophetic?) And then we hung out afterwards and everywhere we went people asked "where's Shannon?" Everyone was so used to seeing the three of us together. And the next question was "are you guys like on a date then?". And we'd look at each other sheepishly and answer "yes". He drove me home in his huge ass beatup pickup truck and after coming up for air after an extended bout of kissing, it finally came out that he'd like liked me since the night we met but he figured I'd never date someone like him. And he was intimidated by the parade of college guys I dated. I told him that had all been to make him jealous and that I thought I'd practically thrown myself at him and it was about time he finally caught me. And then my cousin came by where we were parked outside Grandma's house and told me it was time to get my ass inside. That just because I was with his best friend didn't mean he wasn't going to protect my virtue (what virtue??). I laughed, but went inside so hubby would make it home by his curfew. After that night? Inseparable. We started talking about "when we get married" two weeks later where he officially "married" me with a beer tab ring. Twenty two years flies by so fast. Thank you Shannon for introducing us and being best man at our wedding and godfather to our first child, with whom you share a birthday. Thank you Keely for being smart enough to know who your idiot brother should ask out even though you were only eleven. And for being godmother to our daughter. And for countless babysitting hours.
And to everyone who thought we were too young (omygodyouweresorightwewerejustbabiesourselves!)~ in your face! Because 22 years later we're still standing here together, happy more than not, and I can't imagine having shared this journey with anyone else. As much as he drives me crazy, he's still my best friend, the one who knows my secrets, holds my tears and never ever doubts me. He encourages me to go for my dreams, be who I am and live life on my terms. His love makes me fearless. Because no matter how bad I screw up he forgives and loves me anyway.
My husband, my hero.
This summer (he may have been slightly intoxicated and laughing his ass off)~
This winter~
Friday, October 2, 2009
Bonus Blog...
Jackpot! Score! Because you are such very good readers...I'm going to give you a bonus blog. Yep. Two in one day. Although it's after midnight so technically it's tomorrow, but I'm still up so in my world it's still today. You may thank me by commenting. Or following. Or sending money. Whichever. And I will make this one relatively short because looking back, I realized I've been writing books. Thank you for wading through them!
Disclaimer: Please please do not try this at home. This stunt is packed with potential danger depending on the temperament of your spouse or significant other. And I would hate to have someone copy my technique and have their spouse smack them around for it. That would be bad, because then I'd feel all responsible and have to put a mafia hit out on them. Which might get traced back to me and ruin my rep. Not to mention I would not look good in a prison jumpsuit. Or what if someone did this and then their spouse came looking for me all you ruined my life by teaching my wife this trick! and tried to shoot me, like that guy did to Nicole Kidman in The Stepford Wives. That would be baaaadddd Bob!
Today I went into my pantry to throw away a paper towel and the trashcan was full. Not just full like close to the top full but full like overflowing full. And I came out of the pantry and let out a little growl and said loudly Why can't your father ever take out the garbage like he's supposed to??!" I mean seriously, it's not rocket science, is it? And he throws away the coffee filter every morning so I know he knows it's full. And Sean said "oh man. not this again". And then it struck me and I'm pretty sure that a light bulb appeared over my head like it does in cartoons when the character has an idea. Because this was brilliant. I said. "You're right." And then I proceeded to march into my husband's home office (which of course he wasn't in at the time) and then I spent 20 minutes searching for his post-it notes because the man does not know the meaning of the word organization. But finally I found them and a sharpie and I left him a note.
The actual note:
In case you can't read it, it says Do up the f*cking garbage or die. Ur choice. It makes no nevermind to me. PS- hope you're having a good day =] And then I left it on his planner. Two hours later I was in the laundry room folding laundry when I heard him come in. As I walked past the pantry door, with an armful of clean laundry I heard the unmistakable sound of the garbage being done up. "Good choice, honey" I called out sweetly. I know, I'm an effing genius.
♥Spot
Disclaimer: Please please do not try this at home. This stunt is packed with potential danger depending on the temperament of your spouse or significant other. And I would hate to have someone copy my technique and have their spouse smack them around for it. That would be bad, because then I'd feel all responsible and have to put a mafia hit out on them. Which might get traced back to me and ruin my rep. Not to mention I would not look good in a prison jumpsuit. Or what if someone did this and then their spouse came looking for me all you ruined my life by teaching my wife this trick! and tried to shoot me, like that guy did to Nicole Kidman in The Stepford Wives. That would be baaaadddd Bob!
Today I went into my pantry to throw away a paper towel and the trashcan was full. Not just full like close to the top full but full like overflowing full. And I came out of the pantry and let out a little growl and said loudly Why can't your father ever take out the garbage like he's supposed to??!" I mean seriously, it's not rocket science, is it? And he throws away the coffee filter every morning so I know he knows it's full. And Sean said "oh man. not this again". And then it struck me and I'm pretty sure that a light bulb appeared over my head like it does in cartoons when the character has an idea. Because this was brilliant. I said. "You're right." And then I proceeded to march into my husband's home office (which of course he wasn't in at the time) and then I spent 20 minutes searching for his post-it notes because the man does not know the meaning of the word organization. But finally I found them and a sharpie and I left him a note.
In case you can't read it, it says Do up the f*cking garbage or die. Ur choice. It makes no nevermind to me. PS- hope you're having a good day =] And then I left it on his planner. Two hours later I was in the laundry room folding laundry when I heard him come in. As I walked past the pantry door, with an armful of clean laundry I heard the unmistakable sound of the garbage being done up. "Good choice, honey" I called out sweetly. I know, I'm an effing genius.
♥Spot
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