Mrs S likes to look in the trash after I throw things away. Fish them out again and put them in the proper receptacle, the trash receptacle.
Pisses her off.
As she pulls out a plastic bottle and waves it my face…
“You know you’re contributing to global warming lazy.”
“-11 this morning, we could use a little global warming.”
Not what she wanted to hear. “You and your attitude are going straight to Hell you know that?” “Hmm can’t be that bad, the don’t recycle there.”
Blah blah blah
We really could stand a tish of global warming around here, it was freezing this morning. Much colder than it should be the end of February. When the kids were small, and winters were colder, I remember that by the end of February it was hard to keep the outdoor ice rinks nice. Not this year. Friggin cold walking to the bus stop. Legs went numb.
Then again, being a Minnesotan I reserve the right to laugh at the cold and did take the garbage cans out to the curb in my shorts.
Went to the gym this evening. Wore shorts for the first time since October. I don’t particularly like shorts. Feel nekkid in shorts. I like wearing jeans. I’d wear jeans every day if I could, unfortunately I have to wear dress clothes to work. In 2013 it’s a little absurd if you ask me. You can tell who works at my company on the busses, we’re the ones in suits and ties.
Well ties anyway. I don’t wear a suit anymore. I have several suits, I just don’t wear them. Mrs S is forcing me to go the gym in part, because I don’t wear my suits. They were nice. Don’t know of they’re nice anymore because I haven’t tried to wear them for awhile. For a good reason mind you. That’s why I’m going back to the gym.
Last weekend I sold my Nook color on Craigslist. Met the buyer at McDonalds. He sent me a note describing himself. Tall blonde dude. I sent him a text back “Bald fat guy”. Mrs. S pointed out that it feels wrong to describe yourself as a bald fat guy. Fuck that, it is what it is. “I don’t like describing my husband as a ‘bald fat guy’”.
She’s a little pissed off today. She got a letter yesterday that she wasn’t all that happy to get, she recieved her invitation to join the AARP. Retired Persons Union. She’s turning 50 tomorrow, my old lady. For 6 months anyway. I suggested that I should look into trading her in on two 25 year olds. She replied that it made sense that I’d want two wives since I’m twice a fat as I was when we got married.
I ain’t marrying any 25 year old until I get that AARP letter out of the garbage disposal. Jammed the thing up pretty good.
Not quite. 25% bigger, not 2X.
I hate going to the gym. I especially hate going when it’s -11 degrees. I wore shorts because I wasn’t too interested in changing in the locker room. “Why won’t you change in the locker room?” she asked. “Don’t want my stuff to get ripped off.” “Use that lock” she said, pointing to the my bag. There’s a lock hanging off my bag, but I can’t remember the combo. “When was the last time you opened the lock?” “It was the last time I went to the gym.” She looked at me.. “oh so back in the 90’s huh? I guess I’d forget too.”
90’s? Shit I have proof that I belonged to the YMCA between 2009 and 20122. I assure you I went every year. Usually in January.
I’m a long suffering hubbie IMHO.