One thing I love most about the boy is his predictability in most situations. For example, you can count on the fact that if the cat is crying to get fed in the morning, he'll tell her to shut-up on his way to the coffee pot, instead of just feeding her.
Or, if he comes home from work and he's grouchy, you can make fun of him and he'll actually laugh at how stupid he's acting. You can always count on the fact that he will not take the initiative to plan a romantic weekend away, or even get his mom to babysit so we can go to a movie.
Now, he wasn't always this way. He used to be highly unpredictable, which drove me kind of crazy, and there were many arguments about his erratic moods, so in some respects I only have myself to blame for the way he is now; he has become predictable as a defense mechanism.
So imagine my surprise yesterday, when he called me at 11:30 to see if he could take me out to lunch.
Typically, this would thrill me. A mid-week, mid-day date. However, when he called, I was still in my pink polka-dot pajamas, UGGS, and winter hat that I had done car pool in 3 hours earlier. Why was I not showered or dressed?
Um, I was playing Guitar Hero.
Yes, it's true. When he called I was actually working, but for the 2 hours before that, I had been a bona fide rock star. Strumming the notes of Joan Jet, Blink 182, and No Doubt while the dogs howled and barked like a perfect audience.
So, did I fess up? Hell no. I had 20 minutes to get presentable. I absolutely ran through this house, shedding pajamas, kicking off UGGS, and throwing on the first clothes I could find that weren't wrinkled. Which were not necessarily the cutest clothes I own, but they were acceptable.
By the time he pulled in to the driveway, I was not showered, but dressed, with my teeth brushed and make-up on. He even commented on how cute I looked. And of course, I pecked him on the cheek and said, "why thanks honey, you're looking pretty dapper yourself."
He was none the wiser and I didn't have to admit that I had wasted my morning playing a video game. It was the perfect beginning to a perfectly unpredictable mid-day lunch date.
Showing posts with label men are from mars. Show all posts
Showing posts with label men are from mars. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
I Think I Smell a Skunk
For the last several days, I've been sitting in my office and smelling the very distinct stench of skunk. And I've pretty much lived with it because I figured that if there was a skunk spraying his stuff all over the yard, I was not wanting to get involved.
So today, the boy comes home and I mention it to him. Thinking maybe he knows something about the skunk, or maybe, perhaps, he should be aware of the skunk so that he doesn't let the dogs out at night to get sprayed.....
M: Hey honey, I think we've got a skunk hanging out in the yard. Do you smell that?
B: Smell what?
M: The skunk smell.
B: I don't smell anything.
M: Well, come in my office and sniff. It smells like skunk in here.
So, in he walks, and he takes a great, big, giant sniff.
B: Oh, that?
M: Um, yeah.
B: That's just my shoes. They're right over there (as he points in the general direction of the corner of MY office.)
M: Were they sprayed by a skunk?
B: Yeah, I think so. I put them in here to air out.
*****Silence......******
M: So let me get this straight. Your shoes were sprayed by a skunk, and you decided that it was a good idea to not only bring them in the house, but to leave them in my office, where I work every single day, so that I might enjoy the breathtaking scent of skunk?
B: Well, I didn't put that much thought in to it. I just brought them in so they didn't get sprayed again.
M: Why didn't you leave them downstairs in the "man cave?"
B: Well, I didn't want the room I hang out in to smell like skunk.
Really. What the eff is that about?
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Rain, Rain Go Away
Honest to Christ, it has been raining for an unGODly amount of time. Like, it's seriously redonkulous.
The school-shopping trip to the Big K turned out to be a total bust. It was raining that day too - actually, it was more like a deluge of water just streaming from the sky, leaving ginormous puddles in it's wake, but whatever. They had none of the clothes the kid wanted at Kmart, but we did get to stop at Steve and Barry's where I scored a few cute t-shirts from the Bitten line - which I love. And thanks to Corey, by the way, for pointing out that the store has declared bankruptcy. I'm happy to say that they may be staying in business though, according to the manager of the store whom I chatted up whilst shopping.
One thing I learned about the Bitten line though; it was created only for people that become invisible when they stand sideways. Any woman that has hips is not going to wear that clothing line - ever. Which was disappointing, because I have hips.
In other rambling-style news, we had a bat in the house the other night. Which pretty much made me shit myself. While I cowered on the couch, screaming my bloddy lungs out while the bat circled my head so closely that I could feel the wind beneath it's wings, the boy ran around the house with a brown shirt over his head like a cape, thinking he could chase it out.
Clearly, he's a total fucking moron.
I continued to scream while he wrapped me in a blanket and shoved me in my office with the door closed, and then opened all the doors in the house in hopes that it would fly out. It worked, but not before I was screaming at him too about the possibility that another bat would fly IN. Jesus, I'm surprised our stripper-man cops didn't show up to save the day.
The school-shopping trip to the Big K turned out to be a total bust. It was raining that day too - actually, it was more like a deluge of water just streaming from the sky, leaving ginormous puddles in it's wake, but whatever. They had none of the clothes the kid wanted at Kmart, but we did get to stop at Steve and Barry's where I scored a few cute t-shirts from the Bitten line - which I love. And thanks to Corey, by the way, for pointing out that the store has declared bankruptcy. I'm happy to say that they may be staying in business though, according to the manager of the store whom I chatted up whilst shopping.
One thing I learned about the Bitten line though; it was created only for people that become invisible when they stand sideways. Any woman that has hips is not going to wear that clothing line - ever. Which was disappointing, because I have hips.
In other rambling-style news, we had a bat in the house the other night. Which pretty much made me shit myself. While I cowered on the couch, screaming my bloddy lungs out while the bat circled my head so closely that I could feel the wind beneath it's wings, the boy ran around the house with a brown shirt over his head like a cape, thinking he could chase it out.
Clearly, he's a total fucking moron.
I continued to scream while he wrapped me in a blanket and shoved me in my office with the door closed, and then opened all the doors in the house in hopes that it would fly out. It worked, but not before I was screaming at him too about the possibility that another bat would fly IN. Jesus, I'm surprised our stripper-man cops didn't show up to save the day.
Friday, August 01, 2008
Holding A Grudge
I'm pretty good at holding a grudge. In fact, in some cases, I have a chip on my shoulder the size of the polar ice cap.....and I'm not melting nearly as quick.
But, over time, I tend to let these things go. Especially when I either haven't seen the person in a long time, or, I was not directly involved in a situation and I've just been carrying one of those "friend-grudges." You know, the kind you hold on to when a friend has been wronged and you're just doing your duty by being pissy at the person that screwed them over?
Come to think of it, there are only two people that I'm seriously grudging against right now. One is my ex-husband. I'd name him, but that might be too obvious, so I'll just link to his MySpace page, and a really funny interview where he proclaims what a wonderful volunteer he is and how he cares so much about the community. If you want to hold a "friend-grudge" for me, that would be cool. Oh, what are we grudging about? Um, let's start with the $10K + that he owes me for child support.
The second person is Leaf Blower, who finds it perfectly acceptable to mow the neighbor lady's lawn at 7:30 on a Thursday morning when it's summer vacation. WTF? Especially when he sat home the rest of the day, hanging out with No Neck and Tranny Nanny.
But, I just digressed on one of those grudge rants, so let me get back to my original story. The other day, my brother and his wife ran in to an old classmate of mine that happens to be friendly with my high-school boyfriend, who clearly hates me, as referenced here. When my brother began talking to her, she began making a clear reference to a move to NY that he made + the fact that I was generally a total asshole for screwing him over.
Wow. The funny thing is, that was five years ago. And, while I can certainly understand him holding a grudge, I can't understand her doing it because A) I haven't spoken to her since high school, and B) she was never even involved in the situation, and therefore does not know the intimate details. But, whatev. I mean, is it okay to hold a "friend-grudge" for 5 years? Is that strange to anyone else but me??
Friday, June 06, 2008
T.G.I.F.
I gotta say, there's nothing better than your brother with the pimped-out mini-van calling about protein drinks on a Friday night when you're drunk. The brother that loves NASCAR and has named his kid after a WWF wrestler has called to ask if protein drinks are what fills you up.
Clearly, he thinks I'm the pinnacle of healthy living.
He must not know that I'm currently eating seasoned french fries drenched in Ranch, and that I had gummy bears and a diet Pepsi for lunch.
Even funnier, he has no idea I'm three sheets to the wind and giving him advice.
But he's chatting (yes, we're on the phone right now) about my mother's fish tank, the dispute with her drunk husband over fish babies, and how hot it is in the factory he spends his days in. He reports there's a tornado watch in Michigan, the trees are blowing over, and his WWF namesake is really good at sliding in to the bases in t-ball.
So, if you're in Michigan, get your ass in the basement.
Clearly, he thinks I'm the pinnacle of healthy living.
He must not know that I'm currently eating seasoned french fries drenched in Ranch, and that I had gummy bears and a diet Pepsi for lunch.
Even funnier, he has no idea I'm three sheets to the wind and giving him advice.
But he's chatting (yes, we're on the phone right now) about my mother's fish tank, the dispute with her drunk husband over fish babies, and how hot it is in the factory he spends his days in. He reports there's a tornado watch in Michigan, the trees are blowing over, and his WWF namesake is really good at sliding in to the bases in t-ball.
So, if you're in Michigan, get your ass in the basement.
Monday, March 03, 2008
Hate & Discontent
I'll start by saying that, if you're of the male persuasion, you may just want to click away. For the last week, I've been in a hateful mood, which is primarily why I haven't posted. But as a new week begins, and my mood stays just as crappy, I'm starting to notice a trend. Instead of bitching about how much life sucks, I'll just break down the last 7 days.
Monday :: Boy is still sick and lying on the couch refusing medical treatment. I leave to take the kid to school, only to discover that I have a flat tire. The last person to drive the car? The boy. So, I call the boy, he ignores the ringing phone the first 7 times I call him. Not deterred, I continue calling until he picks up. I inquire about the flat tire, he insists he doesn't know. When I question further, he hangs up on me. I call my dad. Consider moving in to a hotel until boy is on the mend.
Tuesday :: Work at part-time job until noon. Go to meeting related to real job from 12:45 to 2:15. Arrive 45 minutes late to PTO meeting that started at 1:30, only to find that they are just finishing up. Drive like a bat out of hell to get home and pack the swim bag that the kid forgot to pack the night before. Find the boy still lying on the couch, but with antibiotics and a $600 Emergency room bill. Apparently he did not realize that there is such a thing as a PCP. Go do the carpool thing, go back to part-time job until 5. Haul kid to pool for swim practice and realize 1/2 way there that I've forgotten to pack her clean underwear. Kid is pissed. She then realizes that I've packed snacks she doesn't like. Kid is more pissed. Get to the pool, get settled, and kid approaches with smirk on her face. "Don't get too comfortable, you forgot my swimsuit." Now kid is close to hysterics, I race home, across town, grab a swimsuit and come back, only to find her already in the pool in someone else's suit. Thanks for calling to let me know you little shit.
Wednesday :: Try to catch up on my normal job. Furnace quits working. Furnace repair guy comes over and replaces a fuel filter and tells us that we need a new oil tank. Oh, and by the way, "your chimney isn't drafting properly either. You'll want to call a chimney sweep." Great.
Thursday :: Someday sister-in-law calls to see if it might be okay for her to take the dog to Bethel for the weekend, and leave her in a strangers house while she goes skiing. I say that no, I don't think that will work, and ask if she needs us to make other arrangements for the dog since we will be out of town. She assures me that everything is fine. Again, try to get my writing together. Book outline due soon. Review with the New York Times Company coming soon. Can't work fast enough. Swim practice at 5:30. Even though I'm crazy busy, it does not occur to the boy to take the kid to practice. Apparently I have the ability to be in 7 places at once. 7:30 phone call from someday sister-in-law. Oops, her plans have changed, so she'll let the dog out tomorrow night and then her mother will be by the next day to let her out. The dog will be okay home alone, overnight, right? Since she left me a voicemail, I didn't get the opportunity to tell her that, "no, actually, the dog won't be okay home alone overnight because she has ridiculous anxiety and attachment issues and she'll eat the holy hell out of our house. But don't worry about it, because you're going skiing and you've given your mother permission to come in to our house and go through all our shit while we're not here. Great. I hope you have a fantastic fucking time skiing with your friends." Get home, bitch to the boy who cannot understand why I'm in a pissy mood. Kid is having a meltdown because she now thinks that the boy is going to stay home with the dog rather than go watch her swim. Try to get bags packed for State Swim Meet in Orono over the weekend.
Friday :: Go get my fat ass weighed in at Weight Watchers. I loose nearly a pound, although I'm not sure how that's possible considering the fact that I've been in a pissy mood and eating nothing but Ring-Dings and potato chips for the last 5 days. I take the 8/10th's of a pound. I finally get around to calling my someday sister-in-law back, since she was kind enough to leave me another message, just to make sure I got the first one, to tell her that she doesn't need to be bothered with our dog - we've made other arrangements. While I refrain from saying too much, I do let her know, ever so nicely, that her last minute bail-out on us nearly fucked up our entire trip. Leave for the 2 1/2 hour drive to Orono.
Saturday :: Up at 6 am so the kid can be in the pool by 7:30. Spend the entire morning screaming my heart out for my girl. Just like every other parent. Leave UMO with a ginormous migrane. Walk out in the parking lot and realize that we're going to be driving home in white-out conditions on the turnpike. Stop to have lunch and spend the entire meal listening to a woman, who was also at the meet, talk on her cell phone about how it was so packed that had there been a fire, everyone would have perished. Nice. Saddle up to the steering wheel because the boy was tired and white-knuckle my way home. 5 hours later, we arrive back in Portland. Again, the boy cannot understand why I'm tired, or in a bad mood. I begin to say that it might have something to do with the fact that I didn't get a 5 hour nap on the way home, but think that it must be so obvious, it doesn't need to be stated. Apparently, I was wrong.
Sunday :: Spend the day taking the dog to the beach and grocery shopping. While I am not a grocery Nazi, I do not buy shitty things. My normal grocery bill runs somewhere around $150 for the three of us. Yesterday, when I brought the boy shopping with me, I spent $225 and came home with a car full of Cocoa-Puffs, ice cream, and cookies. In the afternoon, I broach the subject of finances and how, I really need the remained of his tax return that he's hoarding to pay off the $850 cash advance he took on our credit card - remember? The one he didn't bother to mention to me? Ah yes. He just cannot see why it needs to be paid off right now. Somehow 30% interest doesn't bother him. I get pissy and spend the remainder of the day in my room watching DVD's.
Monday :: Thank God. The week from hell is over. Oh no! It's not. Go to the car to take the kid to school. Keys (both sets) are locked inside car. My car is blocking the boys truck in the driveway. Kid is missing her basketball game and is going to be late for MEA testing. End up dragging kid to shool via foot, getting her there just in time. AAA comes and saves the day. Go to the p/t job, spend the day pissy, come home and find that, while the boy has been home all day, the dishes are not done, the laundry is all over the bed, and he's had time to take a nap.
Explain to me how exactly that works out.
Monday :: Boy is still sick and lying on the couch refusing medical treatment. I leave to take the kid to school, only to discover that I have a flat tire. The last person to drive the car? The boy. So, I call the boy, he ignores the ringing phone the first 7 times I call him. Not deterred, I continue calling until he picks up. I inquire about the flat tire, he insists he doesn't know. When I question further, he hangs up on me. I call my dad. Consider moving in to a hotel until boy is on the mend.
Tuesday :: Work at part-time job until noon. Go to meeting related to real job from 12:45 to 2:15. Arrive 45 minutes late to PTO meeting that started at 1:30, only to find that they are just finishing up. Drive like a bat out of hell to get home and pack the swim bag that the kid forgot to pack the night before. Find the boy still lying on the couch, but with antibiotics and a $600 Emergency room bill. Apparently he did not realize that there is such a thing as a PCP. Go do the carpool thing, go back to part-time job until 5. Haul kid to pool for swim practice and realize 1/2 way there that I've forgotten to pack her clean underwear. Kid is pissed. She then realizes that I've packed snacks she doesn't like. Kid is more pissed. Get to the pool, get settled, and kid approaches with smirk on her face. "Don't get too comfortable, you forgot my swimsuit." Now kid is close to hysterics, I race home, across town, grab a swimsuit and come back, only to find her already in the pool in someone else's suit. Thanks for calling to let me know you little shit.
Wednesday :: Try to catch up on my normal job. Furnace quits working. Furnace repair guy comes over and replaces a fuel filter and tells us that we need a new oil tank. Oh, and by the way, "your chimney isn't drafting properly either. You'll want to call a chimney sweep." Great.
Thursday :: Someday sister-in-law calls to see if it might be okay for her to take the dog to Bethel for the weekend, and leave her in a strangers house while she goes skiing. I say that no, I don't think that will work, and ask if she needs us to make other arrangements for the dog since we will be out of town. She assures me that everything is fine. Again, try to get my writing together. Book outline due soon. Review with the New York Times Company coming soon. Can't work fast enough. Swim practice at 5:30. Even though I'm crazy busy, it does not occur to the boy to take the kid to practice. Apparently I have the ability to be in 7 places at once. 7:30 phone call from someday sister-in-law. Oops, her plans have changed, so she'll let the dog out tomorrow night and then her mother will be by the next day to let her out. The dog will be okay home alone, overnight, right? Since she left me a voicemail, I didn't get the opportunity to tell her that, "no, actually, the dog won't be okay home alone overnight because she has ridiculous anxiety and attachment issues and she'll eat the holy hell out of our house. But don't worry about it, because you're going skiing and you've given your mother permission to come in to our house and go through all our shit while we're not here. Great. I hope you have a fantastic fucking time skiing with your friends." Get home, bitch to the boy who cannot understand why I'm in a pissy mood. Kid is having a meltdown because she now thinks that the boy is going to stay home with the dog rather than go watch her swim. Try to get bags packed for State Swim Meet in Orono over the weekend.
Friday :: Go get my fat ass weighed in at Weight Watchers. I loose nearly a pound, although I'm not sure how that's possible considering the fact that I've been in a pissy mood and eating nothing but Ring-Dings and potato chips for the last 5 days. I take the 8/10th's of a pound. I finally get around to calling my someday sister-in-law back, since she was kind enough to leave me another message, just to make sure I got the first one, to tell her that she doesn't need to be bothered with our dog - we've made other arrangements. While I refrain from saying too much, I do let her know, ever so nicely, that her last minute bail-out on us nearly fucked up our entire trip. Leave for the 2 1/2 hour drive to Orono.
Saturday :: Up at 6 am so the kid can be in the pool by 7:30. Spend the entire morning screaming my heart out for my girl. Just like every other parent. Leave UMO with a ginormous migrane. Walk out in the parking lot and realize that we're going to be driving home in white-out conditions on the turnpike. Stop to have lunch and spend the entire meal listening to a woman, who was also at the meet, talk on her cell phone about how it was so packed that had there been a fire, everyone would have perished. Nice. Saddle up to the steering wheel because the boy was tired and white-knuckle my way home. 5 hours later, we arrive back in Portland. Again, the boy cannot understand why I'm tired, or in a bad mood. I begin to say that it might have something to do with the fact that I didn't get a 5 hour nap on the way home, but think that it must be so obvious, it doesn't need to be stated. Apparently, I was wrong.
Sunday :: Spend the day taking the dog to the beach and grocery shopping. While I am not a grocery Nazi, I do not buy shitty things. My normal grocery bill runs somewhere around $150 for the three of us. Yesterday, when I brought the boy shopping with me, I spent $225 and came home with a car full of Cocoa-Puffs, ice cream, and cookies. In the afternoon, I broach the subject of finances and how, I really need the remained of his tax return that he's hoarding to pay off the $850 cash advance he took on our credit card - remember? The one he didn't bother to mention to me? Ah yes. He just cannot see why it needs to be paid off right now. Somehow 30% interest doesn't bother him. I get pissy and spend the remainder of the day in my room watching DVD's.
Monday :: Thank God. The week from hell is over. Oh no! It's not. Go to the car to take the kid to school. Keys (both sets) are locked inside car. My car is blocking the boys truck in the driveway. Kid is missing her basketball game and is going to be late for MEA testing. End up dragging kid to shool via foot, getting her there just in time. AAA comes and saves the day. Go to the p/t job, spend the day pissy, come home and find that, while the boy has been home all day, the dishes are not done, the laundry is all over the bed, and he's had time to take a nap.
Explain to me how exactly that works out.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Shining Difference Between Men and Women
Is their ability to handle being sick.
Truly. I've never seen anything like it. The boy rarely gets sick. Several weeks ago, I had that damn head cold that's been going around for what seems like ever. Now, just three days ago, the boy got it.
And life has been hell since.
It's not just the sheer bitchiness that is radiating from his pores; it's also the constant whining that's going on.
".....uuuggghhhh.....God......I feel like I'm dying......"
*cough, cough, sniffle, sniffle*......"can you bring me some popsicles.....please????"
And let's not forget the endless hours that his ass has been laying on the couch.
Because I'm such a bitch, I've reminded him that when I was sick for 3 weeks, I never once laid on the couch. No, I still ran the carpool, and made it to the hockey games, and took the kid to swim practice, and cooked dinner, and shoveled the driveway.....oh yes, and worked.
Do I sound bitter?
Monday, February 11, 2008
Raking the Roof
Lately, we've had a lot of snow 'round these parts. And my someday spouse has spent his time plowing all of it - not our driveway of course.....he's been plowing for other people. Which has left me home alone with the kid, the dog, and a shovel for most of the winter.
Now, I've paid my dues. I've been out there shoveling the driveway during every single storm. Sometimes, I even shovel more than once. And I only complain occasionally about it - most often when I'm standing at the end of the driveway that I just spent three hours shoveling, only to watch the City plow truck turn the corner and bury me again. I've contemplated flipping off the driver, but he's just so damn friendly, waving and smiling at me when he goes by, that I just can't seem to do it. Instead, I start shoveling again, and I swear a lot.
This week, the someday spouse worked for 26 hours straight. I knew he was exhausted, and I did my best to keep up with the snow here. What I failed to do was rake the roof. There are a number of reasons that I didn't do it.....that damn thing is huge, our roof is really tall, and damn it, I just didn't feel like it. So Saturday morning, over coffee, he says to me, "You know, now might be a really good time for you to learn how to use the roof rake."
I'm sure the comment was meant to be innocent. I'm sure it was meant to mean "you know, in case I'm not home for 26-hours and you want to get ahead of the ice damns that are now so heavy they're ripping the gutters off of our half-a-mil-hobbit-house," but, of course, I'm a woman, so I didn't take it that way. Instead, my response was, "Oh, you think so? Well, that's fine. I'll rake the roof. Don't you worry. And I'll shovel the driveway, and the patio, and the deck. Oh, and I'll make sure you have a hot meal on the table too. Don't you worry one little bit honey, you'll never have to ask ME to rake the roof again."
I'm sure you can already see where this is going.
I geared up, got the roof rake, and headed outside. What I didn't realize was just how damn heavy and awkward that thing is. So, as the someday spouse stood in the kitchen with his cup of coffee, I stood on a snowbank behind the house, wildly wielding a 20-foot roof rake. I'm not sure if it was because I almost broke the kitchen window or if it had something to do with the shutter I ripped off the house, but he came outside in a hurry.
I'm pretty sure he won't be asking me to rake the roof again any time soon.
Now, I've paid my dues. I've been out there shoveling the driveway during every single storm. Sometimes, I even shovel more than once. And I only complain occasionally about it - most often when I'm standing at the end of the driveway that I just spent three hours shoveling, only to watch the City plow truck turn the corner and bury me again. I've contemplated flipping off the driver, but he's just so damn friendly, waving and smiling at me when he goes by, that I just can't seem to do it. Instead, I start shoveling again, and I swear a lot.
This week, the someday spouse worked for 26 hours straight. I knew he was exhausted, and I did my best to keep up with the snow here. What I failed to do was rake the roof. There are a number of reasons that I didn't do it.....that damn thing is huge, our roof is really tall, and damn it, I just didn't feel like it. So Saturday morning, over coffee, he says to me, "You know, now might be a really good time for you to learn how to use the roof rake."
I'm sure the comment was meant to be innocent. I'm sure it was meant to mean "you know, in case I'm not home for 26-hours and you want to get ahead of the ice damns that are now so heavy they're ripping the gutters off of our half-a-mil-hobbit-house," but, of course, I'm a woman, so I didn't take it that way. Instead, my response was, "Oh, you think so? Well, that's fine. I'll rake the roof. Don't you worry. And I'll shovel the driveway, and the patio, and the deck. Oh, and I'll make sure you have a hot meal on the table too. Don't you worry one little bit honey, you'll never have to ask ME to rake the roof again."
I'm sure you can already see where this is going.
I geared up, got the roof rake, and headed outside. What I didn't realize was just how damn heavy and awkward that thing is. So, as the someday spouse stood in the kitchen with his cup of coffee, I stood on a snowbank behind the house, wildly wielding a 20-foot roof rake. I'm not sure if it was because I almost broke the kitchen window or if it had something to do with the shutter I ripped off the house, but he came outside in a hurry.
I'm pretty sure he won't be asking me to rake the roof again any time soon.
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