I am nothing, if not disorganized. Lately my days seem to consist of morning trips to the nursing home to see Oldilocks, afternoons of scrambling to play catch-up on the daily chores required to keep the Casa G. somewhat orderly, and evenings of assisting The Hubs (okay once. I helped him on Sunday. Or mainly I kept him company.) in the garage of doom, readying his car for Spring Break Nationals which are this coming weekend.
And might I say, I hate his garage. And his car. And Spring Break Nationals. And car audio. I may or may not even say it often, as a matter of fact. TOO OFTEN, much to the chagrin of The Hubs. Seriously. I milk that puppy for all it is worth, starting in oh...about October. I'm creative about it. The time factor..it takes so much time away from the family when every weekend is spent with him holed up in the garage. It seriously cuts into my golf time and my game suffers. It is costly. Need I go on? Yeah, I thought not. You get the idea. And you know, I don't quit pissing and moaning about it until after it is over, the second to last weekend in March. And that, my friends, is some seriously valuable bitching time. That requires talent, lamenting the angst that is brought upon my person by my husband's desire to make his car sound better than Chico, Jesus' and Jose's all sound. Who else do you know that can bitch about one topic for a full six months? Like really stretch it out and make it sing, like music to the ears?
I know, right?
Maybe I shall have to start warming up in about July this year. Just to make sure I'm on top of my game. I'm sure The Hubs will love me all the more for it.
Do me a favor though, will you? Don't tell The Hubs that in all actuality, this year's undertakings were pretty painless. Cost effective, even.
We don't want him getting the wrong idea, after all.
Giving credit where due, last year at Spring Break Nationals, he won the class in which he was entered. Just ask me, I'll tell you ALL about it. I still haven't found a spot to put the 6 foot tall trophy he brought home.
Well, I did find one spot, but he was not real receptive to the idea.
And might I say, I hate his garage. And his car. And Spring Break Nationals. And car audio. I may or may not even say it often, as a matter of fact. TOO OFTEN, much to the chagrin of The Hubs. Seriously. I milk that puppy for all it is worth, starting in oh...about October. I'm creative about it. The time factor..it takes so much time away from the family when every weekend is spent with him holed up in the garage. It seriously cuts into my golf time and my game suffers. It is costly. Need I go on? Yeah, I thought not. You get the idea. And you know, I don't quit pissing and moaning about it until after it is over, the second to last weekend in March. And that, my friends, is some seriously valuable bitching time. That requires talent, lamenting the angst that is brought upon my person by my husband's desire to make his car sound better than Chico, Jesus' and Jose's all sound. Who else do you know that can bitch about one topic for a full six months? Like really stretch it out and make it sing, like music to the ears?
I know, right?
Maybe I shall have to start warming up in about July this year. Just to make sure I'm on top of my game. I'm sure The Hubs will love me all the more for it.
Do me a favor though, will you? Don't tell The Hubs that in all actuality, this year's undertakings were pretty painless. Cost effective, even.
We don't want him getting the wrong idea, after all.
Giving credit where due, last year at Spring Break Nationals, he won the class in which he was entered. Just ask me, I'll tell you ALL about it. I still haven't found a spot to put the 6 foot tall trophy he brought home.
Well, I did find one spot, but he was not real receptive to the idea.
4 Comments:
Ha! Surely it was a place where the sun don't shine?!?!?!?! :o)
Or, the trash can!
How bout in his precious garage?
I'm weeping at the loss of our dailies....it is the one thing I hate about my new job. What's the problem with you staying up till 2 am your time to talk to me???? Hmmmm?
At least the six foot trophy SOMETIMES will fit there, knowing our husbands are often big enough asses.
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