Travel & Lifestyle Freelance Writer | Market Research Consultant
I’m not sure if my husband has been ignoring my flatulence tonight, legitimately not hearing it because he’s so absorbed in his book, or thinks it’s just an instrument playing in the orchestral melodies currently emanating from my instrumental Pandora station.
On second thought, we’re not listening to jazz, so the trumpet has yet to feature prominently in any of the featured pieces. I guess it’s probably not option C.
Damn.
The other night when I couldn’t fall asleep, I did what I used to do when I was a kid, and I put my head at the foot of the bed and my feet at the head of the bed.
I fell asleep immediately just as I always used to do, but apparently being married changes things. So whereas I used to sleep soundly “upside” down all night, Mike inadvertently woke me up (and pissed me off) when he started searching blindly for more covers in the middle of the night, in the process ripping the pillow I’d comfortably been snoring on directly out from under my head, on accident sure, but nonetheless, it was certainly a jarring way to be roused.
I was also a bit offended by the similarity he apparently finds between my feet and my face.
Oh well. He put a ring on it, so now he’s stuck with me regardless.
Being married is great.
A good friend and newlywed was just telling me about how her new husband fixed the sink for her.
And, using a hammer and set of wrenches, my quasi-new husband just dislodged the food-processor part that I managed to get wedged into our garbage disposal.
It’s handy to have someone around who’s comfortable wielding tools.
The other day, Mike asked me to fix the holes in his jeans.
I told him that despite my recent crafty endeavors (I made a wreath, a table runner, and I’m about to start in on some curtains), I didn’t know how to do that.
“But I thought you were getting domesticated,” he said.
That was the end of that conversation.
I put a couple notches on the ol’ cooking belt tonight after making some superb chocolate chip cookies (plump, thick, chocolatey, awesome!) for a good friend and the homeless kids that she helps out.
I took a notch out of my belt when, upon putting the first batch into the oven, I found some wedding leftovers that were burnt to a crisp having (apparently) been in the oven for the past month. Even my scientific-minded husband hasn’t figured out how we didn’t see the dish any of the numerous times we used that appliance.
The other day, Mike and I were riding our bikes when a guy carrying a long stick carelessly walked out in front of him.
Thankfully, Mike has cat-like reflexes and was able to deftly swerve and miss the pedestrian.
Despite the catastrophe’s avoidance, Mike was about to verbalize his considerable irritation in this man’s direction, when he realized what the guy’s stick was for.
He was blind.
Oops.