Yesterday evening when I got off work the snow was coming down pretty hard and the wind was whipping it around -- biting cold, such a nasty, slushy day.
I got gas (which was non-negotiable) and then pointed the car toward home, feeling crampy and exhausted and frozen-toed. I called the hubs as I always do after work.
"Are you stopping for dinner?" he wanted to know.
"No, I really just want to get home. The roads are not great." Etc.
He was pissy all night because I wouldn't stop for fast food. (When I'm the one with the valid excuse to behave that way, what with the PMS and all.)
When I turned onto our street I called again. He was parked curbside, and I wondered if I should do the same. He assured me that I should park at the top of the driveway. Let me give you a visual: our driveway is sort-of-hilly, like two flights of stairs with a landing between them. It slopes, then flattens, then slopes again. So, the point of the story is that hecommanded me told me to park on the flat part. It'll be fine, he promised.
This morning, it took me fourty-five minutes to get my car out of the driveway. My wheels were spinning on a sheet of ice. About fourty-two minutes into this song-and-dance, I called the hubster at work to tell him about my little dilema.
"I should have parked on the street," I told him, my voice icier than the pavement.
"Well, you should have brought home dinner last night," he said. The edge in his voice was not well-timed. No, I did not find it funny. I. was. pissed.
"Okay, thanks. Bye."
When I got to work there was an email waiting for me.
Sorry I was such a jerk on the phone.
I thought long and hard before responding.
You were a jerk on the phone. Whatever. I'm over it.
Mostly, I was mad because I felt like he only told me to park in the driveway because I hadn't stopped to get dinner, and he knew that I would have a hard time pulling out -- like it was revenge or something. Maybe what he thought it was... was karma.
So, he didn't respond to my email, and I emailed him later in the day to ask him what he wanted for dinner tonight.
On the way home tonight I stopped and got us a Jersey Mike's giant number 13 to split because I am the bigger person.
(But, I still wear the pants.)
I got gas (which was non-negotiable) and then pointed the car toward home, feeling crampy and exhausted and frozen-toed. I called the hubs as I always do after work.
"Are you stopping for dinner?" he wanted to know.
"No, I really just want to get home. The roads are not great." Etc.
He was pissy all night because I wouldn't stop for fast food. (When I'm the one with the valid excuse to behave that way, what with the PMS and all.)
When I turned onto our street I called again. He was parked curbside, and I wondered if I should do the same. He assured me that I should park at the top of the driveway. Let me give you a visual: our driveway is sort-of-hilly, like two flights of stairs with a landing between them. It slopes, then flattens, then slopes again. So, the point of the story is that he
This morning, it took me fourty-five minutes to get my car out of the driveway. My wheels were spinning on a sheet of ice. About fourty-two minutes into this song-and-dance, I called the hubster at work to tell him about my little dilema.
"I should have parked on the street," I told him, my voice icier than the pavement.
"Well, you should have brought home dinner last night," he said. The edge in his voice was not well-timed. No, I did not find it funny. I. was. pissed.
"Okay, thanks. Bye."
When I got to work there was an email waiting for me.
Sorry I was such a jerk on the phone.
I thought long and hard before responding.
You were a jerk on the phone. Whatever. I'm over it.
Mostly, I was mad because I felt like he only told me to park in the driveway because I hadn't stopped to get dinner, and he knew that I would have a hard time pulling out -- like it was revenge or something. Maybe what he thought it was... was karma.
So, he didn't respond to my email, and I emailed him later in the day to ask him what he wanted for dinner tonight.
On the way home tonight I stopped and got us a Jersey Mike's giant number 13 to split because I am the bigger person.
(But, I still wear the pants.)
Comments
But anyway, that whole driveway/fast food incident is pretty interesting. It's funny how there can be so much drama in such little things. You portray it well.
@ Trav - I know, right? :) But, anyway, yeah, I think the drama in the little things is usually a tip of the hat to the bigger, real, unsaid issues.
@ pinkflipflops - Totally sticking his hand in warm water while he sleeps tonight. Or, you know, just staying up later than him to be annoying. I mean, that might be what I am doing rightatthisverymoment... as midnight approaches. :)
@ saucy - SNOW = the white death.
@ Amalia - thank you for being team amber on this issue. We at musings of amber murphy (uh, well, that'd just be me) appreciate your support in this domestic matter.
@ Tina Lynn - Can he say alimonyspice?! Buh-yah. (p.s. you could never be on my bad side!!)
@ Melissa - If we are still married 12 years from now, I hope you are right!
@ Diana - That tweet was for everyone else. Hubs doesn't do twitter. Nor does he even know about my blog. It's my little secret, like an emotional affair or something. ;)
@ Yvonne - Because of you, I am really craving a fried egg sandwich right now. Perhaps I shall snuggle up to hubs tonight after all, in the hopes of securing breakfast for dinner tomorrow night.