My husband is still around. I'm starting to think maybe he's losing his senses. And mind. While I haven't let my body go too much over the years, the housework and everything else seems to be suffering. And he still comes home. Oh rather I should say, he still stays home with me (rather hard to leave all day when you're looking for a job). Here all all the disgusting pig dog habits I have become guilty of doing over the years.1. The laundry looks like the dogs folded it. The only redeeming quality is that it smells good. When it sits in buckets unattended for 3 days, those wrinkles get set in, alright. We all look like we're wearing stuff Goodwill dropped off at the curb for us.
2. I stink like a sumo wrestler. On my good days. Why is it that man can ride his bike for 2 hours and come home smelling fresh? I got the Philadelphia Hoagie Stink gene.
3. I'm using a dermatological cleanser that contains sulfur. When you're looking for nookie at night, I'm like kissing a fried-egg sandwich.
4. I return any item I've used from the garage onto the garage floor when I'm through with it. I know my man will clean it up. Horribly lazy, bad habit.
5. My freezer-keeping skills make fetching an item out of the fridge an exercise in frustration. You can refer to old blog photos for proof of this one.
6. I don't hold back with the stinkies. No point in making yourself sick, right? And if I'm provoked, I will rawhide your pillow.
7. I had the nerve to admit I get confused about what states border us. It was my "Is chicken of the sea chicken, or tuna?" moment. My excuse was that Arizona is a big state and I don't leave it often.
8. I've started burping in sentences. Without apology.
Forgive me my indiscretions. I am not worthy.
1 comment:
I too sometimes stink like an old lady who's been picking stinkweeds, or like a men's locker-room. But not always! I laughed hard at your descriptions of all of that jazz.
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