Today is one of those sweaty, muggy days where everyone spends the majority of their time peering skyward, waiting for the rain.
I fling the windows open, muzzy headed and reluctant to change out of my pajamas but I do manage to accomplish my one mission for today: going to Starbucks and getting a soy coffee frappucino. I sit in my backyard, sucking on the straw and peering at the sky, watching the long grass tremble and shiver, waiting for the rain.
A few days ago Adam and I got in a fight that began when he put on one of his new favorite shirts (and when I say favorite shirts, you should know that this is a blanket term he uses to describe all but five of them). The bottom of the shirt barely came to his navel and our eyes met as he tried with no avail to cover his midsection with this tiny piece of cotton. Then he got annoyed because I shrunk another one of his shirts.
Hello? Maybe it was like that when you bought it, maybe you’re into belly shirts now, how should I know? By the way your tummy looks cute – oh not tummy…abs. I meant abs.
We were laughing about it this morning because at the time I was pissed. Like, PISSED. Angry self-righteous housewife rage where I spat phrases like “No, this is BULLSHIT! This is like not voting in the Federal election and then complaining constantly about Harper’s dead zombie face and Bush-esque policy objectives. If you don’t do your own laundry you don’t get any say about how shrunk your shirts get.”
Yeah, I’m now comparing national party politics to what happens in my dryer.
Anyway we were laughing this morning as I sipped my frap and I was all “I don’t even know why you got so angry, me shrinking your stuff is kind of our thing now, don’t you think?”
Yeah, he didn’t think it was our thing. But maybe our thing can be me exploiting our nonsensical marital squabbles for internet fame.
I can’t wait for the day when I sit here drawing total blanks and – simply to have something to write about – accuse him of having an affair with another man (possibly a little person) because I found a pair of tiny boxer briefs in our laundry.