Moss and I are the sole residents of the main house today, figuratively speaking. Everyone else has been consigned to The Doghouse of My Mind:
Ferg – Stealing food once, I’m used to (and even expect, with you), but three times in one day? The crowning touch was how you scarfed it right from Katherine’s cereal bowl while she was trying to eat. Having the nerve to look completely unabashed and wounded when I chased you off somehow makes it worse, fyi.
Katherine – Please note that 4am is not yogurt time.
Wikket – “Move!” does not mean zigzag in front of me while I carry large boxes of breakable Christmas decorations, all the while basically still being in the way. “Move” means teleport to another dimension or at least, to another room!
John – I know you’re still ten at heart, but if you’re going to stay up until 1am watching movies about Irish Cow Zombies, don’t compound your offense by having the nerve to say that you’re tired today. No sympathy.
C’mon Moss. You can have the other side of the bed….
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While I’ve never met your husband, he is stunned. Occasionally, I stay up later than what I ought to. For example, I stayed up to watch Rabbittown (it aired 11:30 p.m. here) and was dutifully grumbled at. But I would never, never complain about being tired to Cathy.
That’s just crazy.
He does have his moments, to be sure. After almost ten years of marriage, you’d think he’d know better. Or maybe he does and is getting complaisant. Possibly reading this blog entry will cure him….
My husband was also present for the above-mentioned zombiefest, but didn’t let me know how late he was going to be… so I stayed up waiting for him, my own brain being et by that stupid maze game… I’m allowed to complain of being tired, but he didn’t, smart fella.
What John failed to mention (probably because it was spontaneously decided by the guys as they finished up with the zombies) was that they decided at 11pm to watch a SECOND movie. Given that movies are about 1 1/2 to 2 hours long, it might have been reasonable for one of them to do a bit of math and realise what time they’d be clueing up.
Like you, I was awake until he got home. Sudoku is my current addiction. That and catching up on friends’ Flickr pictures….
I will say, having read the post about the dog bailing out your husband by eating a block of expensive cheese, then I have a new motivation for getting one. Cathy has wanted a dog for ages, but our lease agreement forbids it. It so annoys her that she wants to move later this year.
I was hemming and hawing on it a bit, but hey, if the dog can bail me out sometime or, better still, I can frame the dog, then I’m all about getting one.
No, Craig, there’s as good a chance that the dog will sink you as there is that he/she/it will float you. You see, you can blame the dog for the dirty clothes on the floor, because, hey, you put them in the laundry hamper and the dog scuffed them out to sleep on them. Not your fault. However, WHEN the dog gets into the garbage, it will be your fault for not a)changing the bag b)closing the cupboard c)taking the garbage out d)feeding the dog e)training the dog.
It’s not worth it as a scapegoat mechanism. Trust me. They’re as much work as (if not more than) they are help.
Generally, the messes they get you into are smellier than the ones they get you out of, too. Trust me on this one.