Y'all know I love the husband. I really do. I adore him. But he drives me nuts with the fact that he just tries too fucking hard and that results in what appears to be a brain freeze on his part and then his lack of thinking ends up biting him in the ass because it gets on my ever lovin' last damned nerve.
I'll recount a few case in points over the next few blogs:
Case 1: Dinner. An Enigma. (or... the night his head was stuck up his ass)
Him: What do you want for dinner?
Me: I don't know - my stomach is still not quite right - so I'm not sure it really matters since I don't know that I'll be able to eat it and survive anyway.
Him: Do you want to go out to eat?
Me: Considering I haven't kept a meal down in two days, not really. I don't think that would be much fun.
Him: Well, then what do you want?
Me: I don't know - nothing sounds good.
Him: You probably have malnutrition.
Me: I don't think so. I think I have a bug of some sort.
Him: So you're not going to eat anything?
Me: I don't see that you brought me anything, so I guess not.
Him: Fine. Jesus Christ. I'll go get you something.
a full hour passes and he arrives......
Him: I hope McDonalds is okay.
Me: Wow! That was pretty creative on your part.
Him: You need to eat - I think you're malnourished.
Me: I'm not fucking malnourished - I have a bug - I'll be fine. Why you thought McDonalds on a sick stomach would be a good idea, I'll never know.
Him: Well, I suck at this dinner thing.
Me: Clearly. And now that I've eaten the food you brought me - I'll be in the bathroom.
Him: Are you fucking kidding me? If you ate more often, you wouldn't be malnourished and have this fucking problem.
Thank you Dr. Genius for that diagnosis. I'll be in the bathroom the remainder of the night. Mainly trying to avoid you.