So here’s a thing that’s happening right now: the brindle dog-
-has started requiring that she be tucked in at night.
Here’s the how it happened: she used to sleep with Offspring in his bed but now that he’s gone she’s got that all to herself. Which she enjoyed for the first few, of course—relished it, actually, the way only one who has waged a long war over a particular patch of real estate can appreciate at last having it to themselves. But eventually she started waking up in the middle of the night and, with no one to keep her company or notice her long wistful looks at the back door, would poop in the back hall. Not our favorite thing to wake up to, as you can imagine. Being a genius, I noticed her interest in my bedtime ritual and pointed out that “her” covers had got all bunched up, suggesting that Husband should straighten the blankets on “her” bed to “tuck” her as well.
I see nothing wrong with this solution.
Husband hates this tradeoff.
I don’t really care about his opinion. Not only because I’m usually the one who gets stuck cleaning the poo, but because this post is about the horrible thing he did the day we realized “tucking her in” worked.
HIM: Did she poop last night?
ME: Nope. Because you tucked her in.
ME: (laughing) She likes a turndown service.
HIM: High-maintenance bitches.
ME: EXCUSE ME?!?!?
HIM: I didn’t mean… I guess I did use the plural, but… Ham, help me out!
HAMILTON: (curls paw, swipes at whiskers)
ME: Ham says try being cute; it works for him.
HIM: (to Hamilton) Not all that helpful!
And yet, I can hear some of you trying to make excuses for him. But there can be no excuse because, as I said before, he did it twice.
ME: What time are we leaving?
HIM: 11:30. Audrey was bummed that so many people were going to be late, so—
ME: But she hates it when people are early, too. Basically, her favorite is when the first people are right on time and either low-maintenance or helpful.
HIM: I’m low-maintenance. And you can help.
HIM: Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you high-maintenance again.
ME: … I thought you were calling me helpful.
HIM: Oh. You didn’t even notice the implication that—
ME: So now you’re calling me stupid and high maintenance!
HIM: No! I’m just—I don’t know why I say these things.
ME: I don’t either.
HIM: (hopeful) Maybe I should go back to bed.
ME: (stern) Maybe you should go back to husband school.