Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Water Bottle

B hates all of my favorite things.

He hates my big leather messenger bag (he was the one who bought it for me) claiming that it bent the coat hook I hung it on every day.

He hates the insulated water bottle I take with me to work. I always leave it overnight so I have cold water to take my pill with.

I know, it's just as easy to fill a glass but's not.

He is a very meticulous man who has a place for everything. He is the anti-hoarder.

It is a good thing because I was on my way to being on that show when we met.

B taught me the wonder of empty space.

He hates that I leave my things in a different place each time.

I try to explain that every item I have has more than one special place, and part of the fun is trying to remember which special place I chose this time.

I also say a good place to put things is up his ass.

Sunday evening he went on another "complain about the damn water bottle again"

It's a very nice water bottle from Kleen Kanteen. It keeps ice from melting for hours.

I told him that I figured out exactly what I will do with his body after he dies.

I told him he will be creamated. His ashes interred in that very same water bottle.

I will then leave it in a different spot every day and forget which spot.

I love that guy.

Saturday, October 19, 2013


11 years ago today..

To celebrate our wedding anniversary I will be doing the following:

I'm going to take all of the regular music off B's Ipod and load it with all manner of love songs from the 80's and a few from the 70's.

Songs from the Soundtrack to Xanadu, REO Speedwagon, Asia, and ABBA, will figure prominently, as well as a number of other hits.

B will be so surprised when he gets in the car today and finds out what I have done.

It's even better because he has no idea how to work an Ipod.

I will go to work for 16 hours and leave him with the kids. He will have to take them to a Harvest festival and drop G off at a sleepover.

Tomorrow, we will go to a banquet for the RI Beekeepers, where B gets to listen to people drone on and on (get it? DRONE on..ha) about all manner of bee related things.

I have a scoring system in regards to B. It will decide in years ahead, who will change B's diapers when he needs them.

It's either me, his loving wife, in the privacy of our lovely home. Or Barry, the surly orderly with chapped hands, over at the nursing care facility.

At the moment, it's looking pretty good for him.

So far.