Good day sunshine
I'm off work this week. Don isn't. So this morning, I'm awakened to the repeated openslamopenslam of dresser drawers. Don couldn't find his workout clothes, and, you guessed it: it's my fault. "I don't know what you did with them! It's like you washed my shirt, but not my shorts!" Apparently, I am the Wiley Shorts Gnome. I told him, in a very bleary voice, that I just happened to see some of his shorts in the spare room closet. (Don't ask me why they were there, except, gosh, I don't know, maybe it's because Don has FREQUENTLY put his workout clothes in there to dry when he wants to reuse them without washing after every use.)
Stomp, stomp, stomp to the spare room closet, stomp, stomp, stomp back, followed by an accusatory, "Nope! There not there! I guess I can't work out today!" (Cue glare and radiating vibes of It's All Your Fault.) I hauled my aforementioned bleary ass out of bed, go to the closet, and find the shorts in plain sight. Do I get a thankyou? Or even a "where were they?" Of course not. Are you drunk? Tossing them onto the bed, I state, "The only place I put your workout clothes after washing is in this -point- drawer. If they were in the closet, it's because you put them there."
Now, I'm getting the silent treatment. I guess it's my fault HE put the shorts in the closet, and HE forgot about it. It's also my fault I happened to find them when going through the closet yesterday, the one place he frequently puts them, and brought them to him. Yep. Oh, and it's also my fault that he didn't put them into the wash like he thought, or that he didn't look around for his workout clothes and set them out last night. Yep, it was a plot. The Wiley Shorts Gnome strikes again!
Gosh, I love married life.
Stomp, stomp, stomp to the spare room closet, stomp, stomp, stomp back, followed by an accusatory, "Nope! There not there! I guess I can't work out today!" (Cue glare and radiating vibes of It's All Your Fault.) I hauled my aforementioned bleary ass out of bed, go to the closet, and find the shorts in plain sight. Do I get a thankyou? Or even a "where were they?" Of course not. Are you drunk? Tossing them onto the bed, I state, "The only place I put your workout clothes after washing is in this -point- drawer. If they were in the closet, it's because you put them there."
Now, I'm getting the silent treatment. I guess it's my fault HE put the shorts in the closet, and HE forgot about it. It's also my fault I happened to find them when going through the closet yesterday, the one place he frequently puts them, and brought them to him. Yep. Oh, and it's also my fault that he didn't put them into the wash like he thought, or that he didn't look around for his workout clothes and set them out last night. Yep, it was a plot. The Wiley Shorts Gnome strikes again!
Gosh, I love married life.