Friday, January 15, 2010

I'm pretty sure this is proof that I'm in charge--I'm the only one who can find shit in our house

So my husband texts me this morning.

Him to me: Where are my ski pants?
My thoughts: Ski pants? WTF? Are you suddenly in Colorado on a mountain somewhere and find yourself lacking pants? I have no fucking clue where they are...nor do I care because you've obviously taken a vacation without me and I'm totally stuck at work. Jerk.
Me to him: I think they're in your drawer with your socks.
Him to me (a bit later): I just found them in the top of the closet.
My thoughts: Oh yeeeaahh...that's where I put them. Now I remember....I was in a cleaning frenzy because we were having company and I needed to get all the shit off the floor so I could vacuum for the first time in like 6 months so I threw a big pile of your clothes into the top of the closet. But when did you even GET ski pants?!?
Me to him: I told you they were in the top of the closet.
Him to me: Yeah, I guess I just forgot what you said.

I think I detected a hint of sarcasm in that last text.

Enjoy your ski trip, asshole.

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