Cats DO own the house!!

Well...

Late last night I flopped on the bed sideways to stretch my back out after sitting at the computer for too many hours and too many nights in a row working on a story. I love to write but the long hours of typing and editing takes its toll in my back muscles. Even WITH a nifty cushion and lumbar chair - kinda hard to avoid, it just is.

Anyhow...

I'm alone, hubby's at work. Well... not exactly ALONE-alone... the five furballs are here somewhere. As far as I knew, I was alone on the bed.

So imagine this... I THINK I'm alone. No one but ME is on the bed. I flop back, stretch my arms up, lean my head back to look up and ceiling... and WHAM! Sweet Pea leans over into my face and upside down, an inch from my forehead goes, "MEW!!!" very loudly.

Scared the living daylights outta me!! I couldn't go to sleep for an hour! Dang cat yelled at me cuz I was in HER space for all of two seconds? Puh-leaze!! Who feeds her? Me. Who gives her running tap water thirty-five (well maybe it's only ten) times a day cuz she won't drink standing water? Me. Who pets her during the night when she needs reassuring that she's really not alone? Me. Who brings her cat treats from Wallyworld? Me. Who plays with her when she demands attention on a daily basis? Me. Who cleans her box? Me. I'm her maid... that's what it's come down to.

If I had nine lives, Sweet Pea just scared one of them right outta me, LOL! Maybe even two.

Men and math (before caffeine)

So... we had some tree work done, removed 3 dead magnolias and trimmed up 5 full-size old fir trees. The front yard had the dead magnolias, poor things had to be 20 years old too - only one survived - and the firs were in the back, they're probably 60' tall or something, they're HUGE and older than the house. Yard looks much healthier now and I think the trees all went "ahhhh thannnnk youuuu" in relief, no more dead weight from the winter storms left now and we have a buncha firewood we can burn for heat next winter. It's too bad those trees died, but such is life in the Pacific Northwest - big storms happen and sometimes they just don't make it.

But then we had 2 holes left in the front yard from 2 of the magnolias - had to grind the stumps to get rid of them but in the end it's best way, it just leaves holes and we didn't have any fill dirt or topsoil to put in place yet. We had azalea shrubs to go in the holes but still... we had big holes.

So I asked dear hubby to stop by the dirt place on the way to work and get a price on enough dirt to fill the two holes. It's okay if we have extra but I don't wanna be saddled with a LOT of extra dirt and frankly no place to put it, knowwhatImeanVern?

I was barely awake when he called...

Him: "So they have dirt (like I didn't know that, ha!) and it's $25 per yard."
Me, yawning: "How much is a yard?"

He repeated the price, like I hadn't heard him the first time.

Me, growling: "No really, how much is a yard?"

He repeated it slower, damn him.

Me, sighing loudly: "Not in price, silly... how BIG is a yard? What're the dimensions?"
Him, finally catching the drift: "Oh... lemme check."

He never checks first before calling me. I woulda but he doesnae. I hear mumbling in the background and he comes back.

Him, sounding superbly enlightened: "It's 25 cubic feet."

Okay now we're talking math and I haven't even had any tea, coffee, sugar... or breakfast.

Me, immediately dismissing the idea of 25 cubic feet: "That's too much."
Him, put out: "She said it's just what we need, you gave me the dimensions of the holes."
Me, stammering: "But... but... but we need 3' x 4' x 1' twice... that's..."

I quickly mentally multiplied 3x4 and got 12 and doubled it to find it was 24 cubic feet.

DAMMIT he was right!!! Oh no, this can't be good. Admitting hubby's right would be akin offering him carte blanche to gloat for the next month.

Me, meekly: "You're right."
Him, smugly: "Well okay then." I knew he was plotting ways to get even now.
Me, more awake than ever now that my foot was wedged in my mouth: "Don't gloat, it's ugly, and you're only right once a blue moon."
Him, laughing: "Must be a blue moon then."
Me, grimacing at the thought of what he's gonna be like when he gets home from work tonight: "Told ya gloating's ugly."

So we'll get a yard of dirt for our yard, the azaleas will be happy, I'll be happy we don't have dead trees in the front yard, and the neighbors will be happy that our front yard's not an eyesore anymore, and hubby will be happy cuz he gets to gloat on how he whipped my math hiney for once and was right (even though he didn't do the math himself AND he caught me unawares - I think I should get points for that and declare April the "Gloat-Free Month").

Yay, we're all happy. Now where's my caffeine...

hot... Hot... HOT!!!

I'll keep this short...

How do those little Totino's pizza rolls get so nuclear hot in the center? They're only in the freakin' over for a few minutes, it's not like they were set on fire or anything.

For that matter, how is it possible that French Bread Pizzas have the hottest cheese on top, so hot that even after sitting out for at least nine-point-five minutes, I can STILL burn away several layers of the roof of my mouth?

Or that cheese sandwich I made last night... it sat out for five-point-two minutes and it torched the inside of my mouth too. Humph. Okay maybe it was only one-point-zero minutes, you caught me, I'm impatient when it comes to cooked food.

You'd think (!!!) after all these years of doing the same stupid thing over and over again that I'd learn, right? No! Where's the fun in that?!

...a short blog because I need some numbing antiseptic for my mouth, LOL!

Men...

(note: this actually took place on Easter Sunday - not today)

Ever have a clarifying moment in time that truly defines the state of your marriage and ya just go "Wow... did I screw up or what?"

And no, I don't mean screw up by ME doing anything wrong, I meant HE did something wrong and I screwed up by thinking it wouldn't happen... again.

See it all started rather innocently. It always does, come to think of it. Then *wham*... Hubby Happens. I need a bumper sticker for that. Not "Doo-doo Happens"... I need "Hubby Happens". Other wives could probably relate.

Okay, back to the story, stick with me. He bought me a bottle of Martinelli's Sparkling Cider a while back. I love the stuff, but I don't drink it that much anymore (cuz it's carbonated, I have to wait till like half the fizz goes out once it's opened, long story but I don't drink carbonated things that much anymore), it's special. So it sat unopened for a little while, sue me... it won't go bad in a month or two... or even three. Then two nights ago I opened it, and over two days drank about half of it... slowly. Hey, I was savoring the treat, ya know?

Now if you're still with me, here's where it gets interesting:

Hubby knows he bought it for me.
Hubby saw it in the fridge.
Hubby knew we didn't have another bottle tucked away somewhere just in case he felt the urge to finish off the half of the bottle.
Hubby didn't pay diddly-squat to all of that.
Hubby lost what's left of his mind completely and drank it.

Hubby then hid the empty bottle so I wouldn't notice until this morning when I got up thinking "Oh... it's Easter. I'll make me some eggs ranchero for lunch/breakfast (guess that's brunch huh) and I'll have the rest of that bottle to go with it, that would taste really good!"

And you ladies know, when you wake up with a thought of something that sounds really good... it just has to be there. It's like a craving for chocolate... you get the craving, you have to have it. Or a craving for ice cream. Or whatever. Well I had a hankering for the rest of that sparkling cider.

So there I was, fixing the eggs: Then I muttered to myself as I headed to the fridge: "Eggs almost done, time to get the bottle of... ohhh... it's... it's... IT'S GONE!!! ACKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!! OH. NO. HE. DID. NOT!!!!"

I actually closed the fridge, looked around to MAKE SURE I was still in my kitchen, opened the fridge and stared at the empty spot. Looked through all the items in the fridge. Nope, no tall long-necked dark green bottle ANYWHERE!!!

That beastie DRANK THE REST OF THE CIDER!

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I woke him up. He works graveyard, he's off tonight, I can do that. He'll just go back to sleep anyhow.

Me: "WhathappenedtotherestoftheMartinelli's?" (Like I don't know. Ha.)
Him: "Huh?"
Me: "Didyoudrinkit?"
Him: "Wha...?"
Me: "I said... whathappenedtotherestoftheMartinelli'sdidyoudrinkit?"
Him: "Oh... that."

He snored.

Me: "WAKE. UP."
Him: "Huh? Wha...?"

I repeated my questions rapid-fire. Eggs were cooling. I needed sparkling cider NOW. Hey... it was an epic crisis, fer cryin' out loud!!

Him: "Oh yeah... I drank it."
Me: "WHAT?! That was MINE!!"
Him, whining: "Well, there wasn't that much left..."
Me: "There was half a bottle!"
Him, trying to justify: "No there wasn't, there was like one fourth of a bottle, you'd already drunk three quarters of it."
Me, not buying it: "It was still mine, why'd you drink it?"
He almost looked like he was going to say, "Because it was there" but he didn't.
Him, sheepish: "Oh... well I didn't know you wanted the rest of it, so I finished it off."

SHEESH. Men.

Now of course, my eggs are done, no apple cider to be found. Craving's still there. So then I'm eating and he wants to come out to "talk". Not about the missing cider. Oh no, that would be too easy! He wants to tell me some story he made up while I'm eating my eggs sans cider about the Easter Bunny and the computer geek and the military guy. I wonder which one of us is the computer geek.

Gee I feel so special. Not.

Sooo... I screwed up because I thought that if he gave me a gift, then it was mine to use and I didn't have to label it or tell him "mitts off this". I shoulda known better, I shoulda put my freakin' name on it, sheesh.

*pout* I want my sparkling cider... it'll take a while to wear off the craving, maybe a chocolate bunny would work, LOL.

P.S. Two hours later, and 3 small Milky Way bunnies later... all's right with the world again, hehehehe. I'm not THAT pissed about the Martinelli's, most of that's just satire.