I took a Buzzfeed quiz.
It said that I’m not ready to have kids.
I’m not sure how the boys are going to take the news…
Can I get a refund?
Categories
Can I Get A Refund?
Category: Family
Today is International Talk Like a Pirate Day.
Bob must have been a pirate in another life.
He’s fluent.
He’s playing golf today.
But he refused to dress in pirate gear.
We have pirate costumes.
They are in a box in the garage marked “Pirate Crap.”
I tried to get rid of it when we moved.
Bob insisted on keeping it.
But for what?
He won’t dress up on International Talk Like a Pirate Day.
Arrrggghhh!
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A New Tradition
The Grown Son has a new tradition.
Every weekend he sets up all the TVs in the living room.
So he can watch All The Games.
At once.
It’s a nice arrangement.
With a little Buffalo chicken dip and some guacamole, it’s like a sports bar.
But with pajamas.
The only problem is the extension cords that are set up across the doorway.
Me: You have to move these. I’m going to fall on my face.
Grown Son: *Eyes glued to the TV* So be more careful.
Me: *Tripping again* *That’s not gonna happen.*
I need a new approach.
Me: When I go down, I’m taking all these TVs with me.
Grown Son: *Immediately gets up and moves the extension cords to a safer location.*
Me: *Smug* *I won.*
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Pick Up After Yourself
The Grown Son and his Roommate were hanging out at my house.
Me (to Grown Son): Pick up after yourself – you’ve left a debris trail all over the house!
Roommate: That’s funny. That’s exactly what he always says to me.
Me: Really?
Grown Son:
Roommate: Uh, sorry Dude.
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We Did It Again
Recently I gave some sage advice about NOT putting plastic dishes on the hot stove.
Apparently the Grown Son didn’t heed my advice.
I found a kind-of melted, disfigured plastic dish in the kitchen.
Apparently he caught it before it completely melted.
It was the plastic microwave dish cover.
Like a moth to a flame, this thing just keeps landing on the hot stove.
Luckily they are cheap at Target.
I need a new one.
Maybe I’ll buy two.
Just in case.
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The Perfect Crime
Bob always mows the lawn himself.
While we were on vacation, he hired a guy to take care of it.
Apparently the gardener never showed up.
The grown son, who did a surprisingly good job of keeping the house tidy in our absence, forgot to mention the no-show lawn guy.
It’s now a jungle out there.
He’s got a huge job to do today.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he finds some old appliances or even cars dumped out there.
Maybe even a body.
Bob won’t care, though.
It’s too hot.
He’ll just shovel up the evidence with the lawn clippings so he can go inside for a cold beer.
It’s the perfect crime.
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An Indoor Slip-N-Slide
Bob has been travelling on business.
Today I am flying out to meet him for a vacation.
I am leaving the house in the hands of my Very Capable and Very Responsible Grown Sons.
They promised me, as I was leaving, that they would not be installing an indoor slip-n-slide.
I am not at all reassured…
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Grown But Not Mature
The grown but not mature son told me that his friend will be passing through town.
Could I put him up in my spare room?
I said of course.
The grown son asked if I could make a special dinner.
I said of course.
Lasagna?
I said of course.
But, I told him, I’ll need you to go to the store for some things.
The grown son rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance.
Proving that he is grown, but not mature.
Not yet anyway.
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My Revenge Game
I need to work on my revenge game.
Bob had to get up very, very, very early this morning.
His alarm woke me up.
Fair enough.
I went back to sleep.
However, he left his phone on the nightstand.
In snooze mode.
Nine minutes later, when I barreled furiously into the kitchen, he said cheerily, “what are YOU doing up so early?”
I don’t usually curse.
I made an exception this morning.
However, something went wrong in the execution.
Bob just laughed.
Lacking a Plan B at last-night-o’clock in the morning, I murderously stared him down, and methodically turned on every light in the house.
Just to annoy him.
Again, he laughed.
He turned off all of the lights and apologized for the snooze thing.
I’m going to have to work on my revenge game.
I’m getting weak.
Categories
The Art Museum
I visited the art museum the other day.
There is a Monet exhibit that I wanted to see.
Bob refused to come with me.
Apparently I have tried his last nerve.
He’s done being dragged to cultural events.
Big sigh…
I pointed out that if I was his date rather than his wife, he would eagerly accompany me to the museum.
He laughed and laughed and laughed.
This, I informed him, is why boyfriends are better than husbands.
It is also why sisters are better than husbands.
However, I don’t have any sisters nearby.
I took myself to the art museum alone.
And I had a surprisingly wonderful time.
No one bugged me.
No one urged me to hurry up.
No one complained that they were hungry.
I could take as long as I wanted.
But don’t tell Bob that I enjoyed myself.
He feels kind of bad that he ditched me.
I’m gonna milk it.