Writing blogs makes you less cranky.

I need to ask myself what’s reasonable.  Of course I’m never going to seem happy if I am always viewed as the bad guy.  Ant told me that everything’s cool until I get home.  I told him that hurt my feelings and that I knew exactly what he meant by saying that my family reminded him of the English.  Maybe someday he’ll read all these blogs and have some idea of what my side of things was like.  This morning I’m fired up about why I’m responsible for all the frigging housework and chasing after Ant and making sure the animals are fed, walked, clean, healthy, happy… and I still have to clean up after their barf and other functions.  I can’t even write my next sentence without sounding whiny, but good grief, no wonder I’m so pissy.  I would like to create an infallible system to share responsibilities.  Somebody’s got it pretty easy right now.

Okay, so now that that’s out, I feel better.   Now as a reward for reading my list of accomplishments, I’ll tell you about last night.

So I come home just as Chris is taking off for work.  I had 99 calls yesterday and somebody told me that in the 8 years they’ve been dealing with the VA, I am the most helpful person they have ever spoken to.  That had me feeling pretty good, so it didn’t bother me that Ant asked me what was for dinner as soon as I walked in the door.  I told Ant we would be going to the grocery store after I got back from walking the dogs (alone, since Ant still has a cough, I’m only slightly bitter) and asked him to please write out a grocery list.  When I came back, I found stuffed shells on the list.

“But we had stuffed shells not that long ago,” I said.

“Yes, but Daddy made them, and they were terrible.”

Well, okay.   So we went to the store and Ant did not make a scene, a mess, or a pest of himself.  He let me match sales with coupons in silence.  I took him to Blockbuster and let him pick out a movie and when we got home, the sprinklers were on.

The sprinkler by the door shoots out across the walk, probably to water the rosebushes against the garage.  This makes it interesting to get to the door.  I grabbed a handful of bags and just ran for it, shrieking.  My theory was that sometimes dumb luck applies, but I got sprayed in the face.  I waited on the porch to see how Ant did.  He carefully hid behind the car door, distributing grocery bags for equal weight.  Then he moved up to the edge to watch the rhythm, but misjudged the distance and got sprayed in the face just by standing there.  I was immediately consumed with the kind of laugh that you just can’t keep up with.  Ant almost lost his composure, but held it tight and tried to time his launch anyway.  He saw an opportunity and ran for it, but got sprayed in the face again.  We giggled our way into the kitchen to put the food away.  Ant went to start the movie while I started making dinner.

“Really?”  I hear Ant ask.  “REALLY?”

“What’s wrong?” I call from the kitchen.

“The sprinklers JUST turned off.”

Such is life.