The Chair

Hi there, it's my Saturday morning rush to write something before I drop off the face of the earth for the next 16 hours.

I so want to stop working these marathon shifts, but there is no good alternative at the moment.

This shift is the sacrifice I make in order to have 4 days off a week, so I really need to shut the hell up.

I have funny stories and comments a lot about my husband, because he is a very funny guy. Most of the time he is funny without meaning to be.

The problem I run into, actually it is a problem that I may run into in the future, is that people who know him read this and then see him and may make a comment like:

"Hey, I read on your wife's blog that you were outside at 10:00PM in freezing weather using an electric handsaw because you suddenly decided at 9:00 that you just had to fix that fucking chair."

B is a private person, not because he has anything to hide. He just doesn't like to share unless it's with me when I am trying to do something else.

Writing about my life in a public forum must make me an over-sharer.

But I like to write about funny things and I like to share them.

I keep a collection of stories in my head that I think of when times get hard or my thoughts start taking a turn South.

When someone tells me that they liked my last post or that they laughed out loud, it makes me think that these stories in my collection are worth telling.

Maybe they'll remember and laugh about my father wearing a girdle, or Steve the Elf on the Shelf banging the Tooth Fairy, when they are having a bad time.

Maybe they'll be having a bad day, read this and laugh. Suddenly the day wouldn't be so bad. I think that would be the best.

For the record, B did hold me as his hostage/surgical scrub nurse, standing by to assist in his endeavor to fix that fucking chair after 9 PM. We ended up putting that chair away after it didn't work out. I didn't tell him that I told him so.

Maybe I'll get him a new chair for Christmas. That I'll have delivered to the psych ward after I have him committed.

Shhh-don't tell him I said so.