It started Saturday at 7:00 AM when I got up because I got tired of covering my ears so that my drooling cat would stop giving me wet willies.
No wait, actually it started Friday night when we went out to Chili's because I had seen a commercial for Chili's enchiladas a couple days before and told Fred to take me there Friday because they looked dang good. Apparently I'm
So I get up at 7:00 to find eight piles of dog barf on the bedroom carpet. Nice. I knew exactly who the culprit was.
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| Don't let his cuteness fool you. I call him Diablo for a reason. |
Remember those ribs? Mr. Wonderful brought some home in a doggie bag and even though I told him not to, gave them to the dogs. The other three chewed a little on theirs and then lost interest, but not the little cutie in the picture.
We could hear the little barf machine chewing on his bone under our bed off and on during the night. Unfortunately, we did not hear any barfing or we may have prevented a pile or two from happening. Apparently he binged and purged all night.
Anyway, I have to hand it to my very not-a-morning-person husband. This is a man who can barely remember how to make toast in the morning, let alone clean something. While I was ranting about the mess and that this is a rental, and the carpet will be stained, blah, blah, blah, he stumbled to the garage, got the carpet shampooer, and had the whole mess cleaned up before I even had my coffee.
Of course...it was his fault...but still. Brownie points for the hubs.
We had a 9:00 AM appointment with the repair shop to get some work done on my Tahoe so shortly after the barf bonanza, we had to head out.
This meant I would be riding back from the repair shop in Fred's car. I know Fred dreaded this because the interior of his car is in, shall we say, less than pristine condition. The man sweeps and mops for me though, so I'm not complaining.
...but I have to admit, when I got into his car it was like I became the eye of the terminator. My computer flicked on and everything I looked at appeared in crosshairs with a description in courier font next to it.
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| The Wifeinator (Picture snagged from here: aptoid.com) |
You get the idea.
It was a delightful drive home for Fred.
After his nap, we went to the grocery store and I told him I would make him manicotti for dinner. Fred's not a picky eater per se...but he doesn't like anything new or experimental. Deviations, he calls them. Like adding spinach to manicotti. I suggested it and got a blank stare. "Why?" was all he said, plaintively.
Since I didn't want to argue with him and the man did shampoo the carpet at 7:00 on a Saturday, I made it "sans spinach." We had a delicious Olive Garden style dinner without the wait and with cheaper booze. Then we watched Cinderella (the one from last year with Rose and Daisy from Downton Abby in it) and that was our Saturday night.
I told you it was exciting stuff.
Oh wait, I forgot, we got into a whole conversation about how no one wants to hang out with us and I reminded Fred that people do want to hang with us, but we're fuddy duddies and stay home all the time. Then to try prove his point, Fred texted some friends we hadn't seen in a year and asked if they wanted to see a movie Sunday and they actually said yes.
Score one for the crazy cracker people.
So Sunday we saw Revenant. Riveting movie with gorgeous scenery! It's hard to believe it's based on a true story.
Afterwards, we went to eat and compared kid horror stories. And by kid, I mean our aged 22 and up kids. They complained about their daughter's hookah parties and the clothes she wears when she goes out at night and we lamented about our daughter's drum circles and how she dances topless around a bonfire.
Kids.
We talked so much after we ate that it was time to eat again when we got home. Hello, manicotti leftovers. A new Downton Abby and just like that, our exciting weekend was over.
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| My spinachless manicotti |
The Wifeinator
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