“I could really go for some salty nuts right now,” my wife blurted as we sat on the couch watching football this afternoon. That’s typical of the kind of crap she spews with a straight face.
“I can probably help you with that,” I responded, to which she smiled and handed me a scrap of paper with a list of groceries.
“Cool. Can you get this other stuff, too? I don’t have my hair brushed and I don’t feel like spending 30 minutes getting ready, just for the neighborhood geezers.” I grabbed my shoes and started for the door. “Oh,” she added, “get me a box of tampons, too. My period started today.”
Amazing. In four sentences, my weekend afternoon went from okay to promising, back to okay, and then plummeted to discouraging. On the positive side, there’s no real reason to expend the effort impressing her with a bunch of housework if we’re just going straight to sleep tonight.
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