Now that we are all done laughing... allow me to document the night that was. We were invited to the neighbors for dinner to celebrate the male head of house's birthday. When it is a male birthday there are no anniversaries involved just food, cake, funny cards and a complete lack of angst. We chicks are complicated - deal with it boys.
ANY way, according to Mrs. Neighbor she's serving dinner 6:30 ish and we should be over 10 to 15 minutes before that. OMG Bubba will have to get his happy fanny home on time... which he does with all of 15 minutes to spare. Is he happy it's Friday, and he's home before the female members of his house are sleeping - of course not. Then there was the discussion of what to wear. And no, not by me - to me this was an easy answer - put on a pair of shorts, a shirt, shoes and go. This is not a four star dinner with his Lord and Ladyship of Uptown Pain-in-the-nether. It's BBQ with the freaking neighbors. Well Bubba being Bubba he decides that he is not in the mood the change so he goes over in his golf shirt and long pants - of course everyone else changed into comfy clothes like shorts and stuff to enjoy their time away from work. Bubba was apparently was having his finger nails removed.
But he ate and that makes him happy, and he sat quietly listening to the conversations of others whether or not he heard any of this I don't know, he did actually converse with the birthday boy and in full complete sentences - not the usual grunts and clicks I get... but then again... I am the wife.
Here is the thing that gets me every time we go out - I like talking and socializing and telling stories etc, but every time I look over to the social butterfly you'd thought I'd blurted out some state secret like his social security number or heaven forbid how much we make for a living. I think I might get away with a bedroom secret or two --- not... Its the look on his face, like he's bit into a lemon I handed him telling him it was chocolate. Now we have in the past gone round and round regarding some topic his royal butt-head has gotten his knickers in a twist about - like making a joke to my mother from a movie we both like: "They think I have more money than God" to which my husband took to mean that I was (in some secret code) telling my uncle that we're rich.
I'll let that simmer for a minute while you put more duct tape over your ears to keep your brains from leaking out over that bit of idiotic logic.
Tonight - as I speak, engage with others in conversation, enjoy the ebb and flow of socializing with others I stupidly look at Bubba and there it is - that lemon grumpy face. I have stopped asking what is his issue - mainly because - well see over leap of logic that simply make my head hurt. I don't care if his terminally anti-social work-a holic is unhappy about my topics of conversation. Deal Bubba.
Oh and another little bit of stupid - he looks at me after dinner - he tells me he's hot. Change your clothes dorkus and you would have been more comfortable like the rest of the world.
Did I mention he was checking email - and as soon as we got home he logged on to his computer... as we speak he's logged on and working. Why did you think I asked for my own computer - so we can ignore each other - me doing something - him working. Oh yeah this is living.
Speaking of living I must relate last night's events. Another summer storm, nervous dog, me in bed - Bubba cleaning gutters in thunder and lightening - then we have a minor flood in the laundry room. Drain outside the door is clogged + lots of rain = flood in laundry room... now the fun part -- Bubba yelling at me, I rush downstairs at the word flood to find Bubba using one towel to sop up this water - one towel sop, wring, sop, wring... I immediately grab the other 3 towels sitting right there on shelf, protect the carpet, then grab the mop and begin shoving water outside. Oh and did I mention we have no power? which means no lights... we're going this by flash light. Thankfully the lights came back on and we were able to finish up. But I keep going back to the thought process of one sopping wet towel and an inch and half of water - so how many hours would Bubba have stood there trying to suck up all that water.... seriously. It wasn't a good thing to giggle but I did it anyway.
When I finally got to bed, 15 minutes later the alarm went off (felt like it) and I managed to slog through my day - but I do have nice pretty pink fingernails to show for it.
Chuck it up to another day in the life...
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