Offspring and I are both musically inclined; this is actually one of like four things we have in common, along with eye color, sarcastic bent, and a hard-wired need to be right.
Husband doesn’t just hate musicals: I’ve literally never heard him sing.
We’ve established that I’m not a grown-up, so nothing I’m about to say should come as a surprise to you.
And yet…
You may have noticed I don’t mention the sportsball here. That’s because it’s not really my thing, generally speaking. This is not a secret.
Looks about right.
There are questions never asked here, and I want you all to know that I do appreciate your restraint, your apparent faith in me. There is, however, one question that I get asked in real life that I feel is best addressed here (no, it has nothing to do with managing my staggering sex appeal – seems everyone just assumes I’m completely oblivious to my effect on others); strangely, the question is about this blog, even though, as I’ve alluded a mere eight commas ago (shut up, I do not run-on, it’s called a complex sentence, and the count is now eleven) it’s never asked by anyone who actually follows this blog.
I have alluded, in the past, that Husband is not an actual grown-up. This is because he’s not, and the proof of this is in the fact that he only recently deigned to try guacamole, ffs. Guacamole. The most perfect food ever, at least, that I can think of right now, because I really want some guacamole now that I’ve typed it three times and said it in my head like nine more. Guac-a-mooole… it’s fucking delicious, right? Yeah it is. But Husband was all “nooope, not even gonna try that weird squishy green stuff” and always insisted that he hated it. Finally ate some on a burger last year, now he loves guacamole. So there.
We’ve been together for, what, three years now, some of us? You are therefore probably aware that while I’m great with animals, anything that photosynthesizes is doomed to a tragic and baffling end if left in my care.
If you’re new, or were not otherwise aware… well, yeah. I kill plants.
Yes, even grass.*
It’s incredibly important for married couples to share priorities and values. Or, so I’m told. Me, I’m just sort of flinging myself through life and I got lucky enough to find a man who either hangs on or follows behind, patiently scooping up my dropped sunglasses, socks, wallet…
