Raawrrr. That's not a sexy roar either. I very rarely do intentional sexy. I'm not sure how often I even manage unintentional sexy but intentional sexy? Never.
That's a bitch roar. One that's making my husband eye me up and continually ask: "What's wrong?" Um, you and your easygoing ass self. He never worries. He's as laid back as they come whereas I'm wound up like a fucking clock. A clock on the edge. Tick tock tick tock tick tock BACK THE FUCK OFF tick tock tick tick tick.
Just like that.
Because I'm having one of those days where it feels like there is never enough time and my house is messy and fucking Mork is on the couch watching SportsNet. If you don't get the Mork reference, please Google. Again, time is a factor here people.
His mother, equally laid back but somewhat more inclined to understand, was here watching our children today and did the dishes when she was here. I pointed this out to him and said how grateful I was but also somewhat perplexed as to why they hadn't been done prior to her arrival.
Well, friends and neighbours, Mork unexpectedly had to work this afternoon. This does not account for the hours between 8:30 a.m. and Noon today, but all the same he did put in a load of laundry and get his truck washed in that time.
I'd like to fucking saw that truck in half.
He likes trucks.
Like non-stop talk about a new truck even though he bought his current one three years ago after I explicitly asked him not to because I was on maternity leave which means tight finances. Taking some sort of torch to his truck and sawing it in half would provide me momentary relief of my current bubbling rage. And would create a less than laid back reaction from him. Or I could just ask him to clean up the kitchen which is in a current state of disarray. This would also upset him. Unless I was his relative or friend. If our kitchen was in someone else's house entirely, not only would he wash their dishes, he'd replace their cupboards and clean the stove if asked.
Anyone else have this problem? He is the most generous helpful energetic guy the minute he leaves our driveway. There is not enough he can do for his aunts, uncles, parents, friends and acquaintances. I'm considering starting to dress myself and the children in disguise to get a little help around here. I do a mean accent; the kids will learn.
Sigh. Stupid thing is, for whatever God forsaken reason, I love Mork. This month will mark our eighth wedding anniversary. Eight years, gone just like that. We married ten months after we met. Stupid ass Mork makes me laugh sometimes. Fucking Mork.
So how's this for relationship management; instead of snapping on his happy-go-lucky ass, I simply call him out on-line and provide him with a nickname to amuse myself, and hopefully you my lovely Internet friends. Although Mork sometimes had some frenetic energy. My husband does not. The only thing he gets 'frenetic' about is trucks. And the Oilers.
What he does not get frenetic about? Is this blog. So I can pretty much write whatever I please and he's none the wiser. When people comment on him not reading it, his stock reply is : "I don't have to read it, I live it."
tick tick tick tick tock.