My husband, Mitch*, really likes new things. I mean, who doesn’t? However, he takes it to a whole new level. I have never met anyone who purposely ruins perfectly good products just so he can buy new. Yet, when it comes to clothes, they practically rot off the hanger before he shops for new.
Today, I woke up to the sun shining in my face and the sound of the sprinkler watering the back yard. Oh shoot! I was supposed to turn that off. Hold please! Alright, I am back. That really irks me. I am the one who pays the water bill. Anyhow…As I was saying, the morning was tranquil. I felt a warm body next to me and as I closed my eyes, I rolled over to snuggle into my lover. As soon as I felt the dog licking my face, I was suddenly transported back to reality. There was no lover in my bed. It was my lab, waiting for me to get up. Hung-over, I padded into the kitchen to make myself some coffee. Mitch is moving about the house at break-neck speed which can only mean two things:
• He wants to get out of the house to go buy something before I wake up;
• Or, he hooked up with the friendly neighborhood dope dealer and is hopped up on coke.
Since he has random drug testing at work, I assume shopping. I ask where he is going and the following dialogue ensues:
“Goin’ to Sears to take back the patio umbrella.”
Let’s pause here and reflect to an earlier part of this story where I state that he “purposely ruins perfectly good products just so he can buy new”. This is the case with the umbrella. We purchased a new patio set last summer at the end of the season**but waited to buy the umbrella. This year, at the start of summer, we bought the umbrella and promptly brought it home and opened it above the patio set. It’s never been closed or brought inside. I told Mitch on several occasions that we needed to take it down when it got windy so that it didn’t take flight and leave us for the neighbors house. On one such occasion, the umbrella did take off and took the table and all of the tiles down with it. I reminded him yet again that it would be wise if we stored it.
I am sure that most of you who are reading this think, why don’t you do it? Are your arms broken? Indeed they are. Enough said. I don’t do anything that involves the outdoor work of home ownership. This is why I am married. It was cheaper to marry than hire a landscape architect.
So during the last minor windstorm we had, the open umbrella snapped in half and is now broken because he neglected to care for it properly. Now that you know the back story, we return to the dialogue:
“Mitch, you can’t take back an umbrella when it’s our fault that it’s broken.”
“The hell I can’t! It’s defective!”
I ponder this comment. It’s defective? Against wind? I am shocked at this statement. My husband, the landscape architect, is one of those people. He is a customer service employee’s nightmare person who doesn’t employ common sense when they purchase a product. I say nothing and drink my coffee. Off he leaves for Sears to be one of those dreadful people. I am thankful I woke up late and am too queasy to be asked to ride along.
An hour later, he calls. He is triumphant that he has a new umbrella in his possession. He tells me that the guy at Sears agreed with him that the umbrella was defective even after Mitch tells him the truth of what happened. It is during this phone conversation that I realize why he is such an outstanding salesman. He knows how to get his desired outcome, while still telling the truth, and getting his listener to be in agreement with him.
My new question is this: Why isn’t he running for President?
*Name changed to protect the innocent and salvage my marriage.
**Surprise, surprise, he already wants a new BIGGER set this year. I think I have made my point.
Showing posts with label Husband. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Husband. Show all posts
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Rabbit Food
On the evening news the other night, one of the anchors was presenting a national health report. I always perk up during this segment always interested in what the latest trends in health are. I wasn’t at all surprised to hear that smoking rates were at an all-time low (as they are almost $10/pack now). But the shocking part of this report was when the woman announced that obesity is at an all time high and researchers couldn’t come to a consensus as to why.
Now, for those of you who are non-smokers, I don’t expect you to understand this. However! It shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that people who quit smoking gain weight. I think that next time they have an opening for the Executive Director of the APHA — I might throw my name in the hat just to see what happens… Based on what I’ve heard, it can’t be that difficult of a job. Hell, I might even be successful!
I just reached eight months of non-smoking status and keeping the fork out of my mouth is the most difficult part of quitting. If you can’t tell by my cynical writing— I am not thrilled with the weight gain. I’ve gained 12 pounds. I would like to think that it’s muscle (and most good people will lie and say that it is) but I know it’s not. Since when did potato chips and Starbucks contribute to muscle gain? They don’t. Bummer.
So instead of complaining about this gain I decided I had two options: A.) Start smoking again (YAY!!!) or, B.) Work out and watch what I eat. I crunched the numbers and unless I get a substantial pay raise, I don’t think I can afford to smoke again. I really don’t know how I would pitch an increase in salary to my supervisor either. So, I really am only left with option B.
Here I am. The end of week one. I just went grocery shopping with my husband and it wasn’t pleasant for either of us. I put Cheetos in the basket, he took them out and replaced them with rice cakes. Cookies – out. Vegetables – in. I was thoroughly irritated that by the time we left I promised I would go home and make a huge breakfast of greasy food. That would sure show him!
I watched as he put away the normal food and my rabbit food was put in special places by itself to make it easily accessible. I was chastised by my husband to quit pouting and that I would thank him this summer when I would once again rule the backyard in my tiny bikini. I doubted that I would ever be thankful that I was living off granola, rice cakes and veggies and continued my glare-down as he made himself a pepperoni pizza for breakfast.
I only perked up when he said that he would need to start exercising soon because he too, would like to trim down before summer. Wicked thoughts flashed through my mind of making him do push-ups and sit-ups with me. Jumping jacks and squats…. VUAHHH HAHAHA!!!
Misery truly does love company.
Now, for those of you who are non-smokers, I don’t expect you to understand this. However! It shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that people who quit smoking gain weight. I think that next time they have an opening for the Executive Director of the APHA — I might throw my name in the hat just to see what happens… Based on what I’ve heard, it can’t be that difficult of a job. Hell, I might even be successful!
I just reached eight months of non-smoking status and keeping the fork out of my mouth is the most difficult part of quitting. If you can’t tell by my cynical writing— I am not thrilled with the weight gain. I’ve gained 12 pounds. I would like to think that it’s muscle (and most good people will lie and say that it is) but I know it’s not. Since when did potato chips and Starbucks contribute to muscle gain? They don’t. Bummer.
So instead of complaining about this gain I decided I had two options: A.) Start smoking again (YAY!!!) or, B.) Work out and watch what I eat. I crunched the numbers and unless I get a substantial pay raise, I don’t think I can afford to smoke again. I really don’t know how I would pitch an increase in salary to my supervisor either. So, I really am only left with option B.
Here I am. The end of week one. I just went grocery shopping with my husband and it wasn’t pleasant for either of us. I put Cheetos in the basket, he took them out and replaced them with rice cakes. Cookies – out. Vegetables – in. I was thoroughly irritated that by the time we left I promised I would go home and make a huge breakfast of greasy food. That would sure show him!
I watched as he put away the normal food and my rabbit food was put in special places by itself to make it easily accessible. I was chastised by my husband to quit pouting and that I would thank him this summer when I would once again rule the backyard in my tiny bikini. I doubted that I would ever be thankful that I was living off granola, rice cakes and veggies and continued my glare-down as he made himself a pepperoni pizza for breakfast.
I only perked up when he said that he would need to start exercising soon because he too, would like to trim down before summer. Wicked thoughts flashed through my mind of making him do push-ups and sit-ups with me. Jumping jacks and squats…. VUAHHH HAHAHA!!!
Misery truly does love company.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Golf Club Update
Continued from Blog Post on July 7...
Slowly but surely I have worked every angle possible on the Nike Golf Clubs. They were on their way out the door in the garage (waiting to be sold) when I casually asked my husband that they sleep in the house. He was defiant in them being moved into the house until I softly suggested that they might get dirty in the garage. The following scenario ensued:
“Honey, I think the clubs are cold in the garage.”
My husband rolled his eyes and with a heavy sigh says to me,“Dacia, they are fine. They are golf clubs.”
“I know, but they really don’t want to go live with someone else.” At this point, I am stooping so low that I only bring this subject up with a low-cut shirt on. Without doubt he can’t say no to ‘the girls’.
“Well, we aren’t good enough to play with them,” my husband says as he looks reluctantly at the floor. “They need to be sold.”
With fret flooding my body, I suddenly panic envisioning some schmuck walking away with the precious golf clubs I have been eyeing for months.
“Wonderful almighty husband,” I coo, “Friends come over and smoke in our garage…surely you don’t want the clubs smelling like smoke do you?”
With a heavy sigh, he puts down the bucket he was carrying and very firmly says to me, “They may stay in the house, only until they are sold on Craigslist. Then, they need to go!”
“Okay!” I agree and once again all is well in Dacialand. I still haven’t listed them on Craigslist but they are one step closer to being mine as I have them sitting next to my book shelf…
1 point for The Girls—0 points for the husband!
To be continued!
Slowly but surely I have worked every angle possible on the Nike Golf Clubs. They were on their way out the door in the garage (waiting to be sold) when I casually asked my husband that they sleep in the house. He was defiant in them being moved into the house until I softly suggested that they might get dirty in the garage. The following scenario ensued:
“Honey, I think the clubs are cold in the garage.”
My husband rolled his eyes and with a heavy sigh says to me,“Dacia, they are fine. They are golf clubs.”
“I know, but they really don’t want to go live with someone else.” At this point, I am stooping so low that I only bring this subject up with a low-cut shirt on. Without doubt he can’t say no to ‘the girls’.
“Well, we aren’t good enough to play with them,” my husband says as he looks reluctantly at the floor. “They need to be sold.”
With fret flooding my body, I suddenly panic envisioning some schmuck walking away with the precious golf clubs I have been eyeing for months.
“Wonderful almighty husband,” I coo, “Friends come over and smoke in our garage…surely you don’t want the clubs smelling like smoke do you?”
With a heavy sigh, he puts down the bucket he was carrying and very firmly says to me, “They may stay in the house, only until they are sold on Craigslist. Then, they need to go!”
“Okay!” I agree and once again all is well in Dacialand. I still haven’t listed them on Craigslist but they are one step closer to being mine as I have them sitting next to my book shelf…
1 point for The Girls—0 points for the husband!
To be continued!
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