You know you live in the laziest of all lazy dens when your tub stopped draining two days ago, and neither you or your honey has even called the landlord yet.
As a result, while I was trying to catch the last winks of sleep this morning, I hear my sweet boy physically draining the tub into the bathroom sink little by little. Ahhh, I thought, I won't have to take a shower standing in cold, yucky, leftover water. (BLECH!)
Then he kissed me on the head and left to go get me a triple, grande nonfat latte - because, of course, I am out of coffee.
So I stretched, got up and showered and got dressed. Then I heard Jeff jiggling the door handle, so I went to let him in. That was when I noticed he had used my good, stainless steel Calphalon soup pot to drain the tub. Not the plastic pitcher he uses to fill the fish tank - no, no! Apparently, we must not contaminate the pitcher we use to fill a fish tank in which all the fish have died. Let's instead put the soap scummy water in our soup pot. The soup pot Jeff refuses to wash at all costs, because we can't put it in the dishwasher.
I love him to death, but why? WHY??? Why and how, for the love of Pete?? Does he have some instinct as to how to drive me bananas? Does he just love to push my buttons? Am I just incredibly ANAL? (That is probably the most likely choice for someone moaning about someone who went to get coffee and drained the tub).
If he didn't make me laugh so hard, I think I might have to strangle him. Thin line between love and hate, people. THIN. LINE.
