Okay, so I worked my ass off today. Seriously, getting off this chair causes me to grunt and groan like an obese senior. I'm not trying to be mean, that's just the facts ma'am. Why am I in such poor shape? Because I spent hours weeding today. One side of our driveway is gravel and the weeds reign supreme every summer and every summer I convince my husband that we should actually pull them instead of auditioning as extras for the Trailer Park Boys. This year though, I am at home, so I decided to do it myself. And now? Now I want to fall asleep on the couch with a half-eaten Kit Kat protruding from my mouth. (I said lips, but some of you who read this would take it in a whole other entirely inappropriate, albeit funny, direction).
I am quite proud of my hard work. I waited for my husband to get home and comment on all the hard work I did. Then he came home and I waited some more. Then finally I said, while staring at the screen, "Did you notice the driveway?" He responded, as if talking to a five year old, "Yeeess". I know you did fucker, you park your truck on that side. Why am I so upset? Because if he remembers to change the toilet paper roll, I am expected to first verbally acknowledge his brilliance, masculinity and sheer brawn, then provide a certificate, embossed with the Gold Seal of "I did something" on it and also making note of the sheer size and animal power of his forearms, and then? I probably have to have sex with him.
And what do I get? I get, "yeeess" spoken like he did notice and he also noticed I didn't even have one accident today and I learned all my colors, including purple.
He's currently preparing supper, completely oblivious to the silent ranting happening mere feet away. And then later? He'll probably say something nice and I'll feel slightly guilty for writing this but is that going to stop me from posting it? No. I'm not that mature.