Us, tonight, getting ready for company.
My husband: “OK, I’m gonna go start working on the guest room.”
Me: “Is there anything I could help with?”
My husband: “You could bring me a garbage bag so I can dump the cat boxes.”
Me: “OK. But first let me text them about bringing their own pillows.”
My husband goes and does something outside while I am typing on my phone.
My husband (stepping back into the kitchen): “You know, by the time you send that it will be too late to help me.”
Me (still texting): “No, I can do it. See, I’m coming.”
Me: “Oh, wait. There’s no “f” in shortage.”
Laughter from my husband.
My husband (walking over to the cabinet and pulling out a trash bag): “Nope, it’s too late.”
Me (still frantically texting): “No, see, I’m coming. Right now,” I reply, still trying to pretend like I can be any help at all by trailing after him through the house.
Me: “DAMMIT. THERE IS NO “Y” IN SHORTAGE.”
Hysterical, snorting laughter from my husband.
Finally, FINALLY!, the stupid freaking text is sent.
Me: “OK, I’m done. Is there anything I can help you with now?”
My husband (doubtfully): “Well, do you think you could bring me the vacuum cleaner?”
Me: “Um, actually, I think that if I am entrusted with anything more powerful than a pencil and a piece of paper right now, I will probably break the world. “
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