As indicated by my very brief post two days ago, I have had ten or so days of hell. I had every intention of writing about my miserable week and a half. I wanted to rant. I wanted to scream at the top of my friggen lungs. I was simply waiting for time. When the time came, I was going to puke my rage out onto the pages of my blog. One huge misery purge.
Then, the time came. Low and behold. . . . . I didn't feel like spewing all of this shit out! I've gotten over most of it and the rest I'm trying to let go of. But that still leaves the blog. So instead of doing a bullet point rant of all this crap, I am instead going to write about an observation I made last week.
On "Good Friday" Mrs. Titus began to feel like crap. This continued for several days. On Monday I had the day off from work. While she slept in I got up from bed and started doing shit around the house. Here is a brief list.
- I emptied the dishwasher.
- I filled the dishwasher and ran the load.
- I took Grandma to her doctors appointment.
- I took Grandma to her lab appointment.
- I went to the pharmacy to get Grandmas medicine.
- I went home and emptied the dishwasher.
- I folded the cloths in the dryer.
- I did two more loads of cloths and folded them as well.
- While in the process of vacuuming the house (including the stairs from hell), Mrs. Titus wakes up and the following conversation and event transpire. . .
Me: Hi Honey. How are you feeling?
Her: Like crap. Can you make me a tuna sandwich?
Me: Sure I can. Do you want chips with that?
Her: No, just the sandwich. . . thanks.
Me: No problem, you just lay down. I've got everything under control around here.
So I proceed to make us tuna fish sandwiches. Rather than stay in bed, she chooses to come down stairs and eat at the table. Now let me remind you, the house is DIALED IN!!!!! I bring her her sandwich. She takes ONE bite and says. . . .
Her: There is way to much tuna on this sandwich and you also used to much Dijon. I knew it! You just don't love me anymore!
Me:?
Women often say that men are babies when we're sick. For the most part, I agree. But, after having the flu I have never gotten out of bed and discovered. . .
- The oil had been changed in All of the cars, and the Harley.
- The lawn is mowed
- The plants and bushes are trimmed and fertilized.
- The cars are washed and gassed up.
you get the picture. . .
See I don't expect that. But believe me If that happened, the last thing I would say is. . .
Me: Honey, you are a heartless bitch. You fucked up my lunch!
Help me out here. Am I off base? WTF
8 Beer Farts:
When Bookie's not up to snuff, there have been times when I was the focus of her rage, sadness, empathy, joy, and more rage... all within a span of about 2 to 5 minutes.
I can't tell you if you're off-base or not. All I can do is offer you a helmet and a foxhole.
Pretty screwed up, but maybe she's just crabby because she's sick. I bet she'll feel guilty about being shitty to you when she gets better.
bizza: thanks for the helmet and foxhole! I feel gut shot. Yell loud, "MEDIC"!!!!!!
Dr. K: I agree. Let's hope the grouchies leave with the coudies.
We all suck when we are sick. Wow, that was eloquent.
Nope, your not off base at all. It's the female mind. It's a terrible, terrible thing.
You think that was bad? Go to DisneyWorld for 5 days during Spring Break with a hormonal pregnant woman and an 11 year old spoiled brat for a son, then talk to me. I'll be the guy waiting in the Walmart line to buy the gun to end it all with.
Chardsy: Thanks for the honesty and yes, it was eloquent.
Bucky: Maybe not terrible... Troubled, yes.
MidLifer: Did you forget my Epcot Center advise? Drink, Drink a lot!!!
i LOVE that park sign. LOL
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