A Wretched Truth

Husband gets a lot of heat on this blog, so I figure I'd throw him a metaphorical bone. Although it's all in hypotheticals, of course.

Maybe I'm in Denver for Christmas.

It's possible I drove 5.5 hours to Atlanta at 6 am to fly out, instead of the closest airport in my city so, if I were to take the dog (who does that anyway?!) then his flight would be only 3 hours.

Speaking of dogs, there's a chance I brought Ryker with me.

It's plausible to assume I was a little anxious about flying the dog with me. If, in fact, I did pay $200 one way to fly him, and will have to pay $200 again to fly him back.

Perhaps I had a few tears appear in the corner of my eyes as I left him with the very kind Delta representatives. Hypothetically, it could have looked more like a monsoon as it down my red, splotchy face. Or a deluge. Then again, perhaps not.

If this did occur, then it would also be believable that I asked no less than five different Delta representatives to ensure that Ryker was actually put on my plane. Including the obvious questions, "Will he be cold? Is it dark? When is he put in?" As if I hadn't done five hours of research...

In the unlikely event that I would have talked to all of those people, it would have been because of my innate goodness trying to prevent a hideous, dangerous scene in Denver when they inform me that my dog was in Milwaukee on accident.

Maybe I let Ryker out of the cage as soon as I saw him without regard to the fact that we were in the middle of baggage claim. Nor would I have cared if he was so excited to see me he spritzed all over the carpet. Maybe he did that. And if he did, maybe I didn't care.

And then that creates the potential, in such an unlikely situation, for him riding on aunt Sarah and my laps the entire ride home.

Potential only.

Possibilities only.

You get the pathetic idea.

Clocks and Flowers.

Typically, I'm not crafty.

Sarcastic, definitely. Word-oriented, yes. Aware of my surroundings, most of the time.

I went to Hobby Lobby yesterday to buy a huge clock,  (Isn't it great?)

and decided to finish a project I started like 17 months ago. So, as far as my track record is concerned, I'm right on time for finishing. It only took me like thirty minutes and two store associates to figure out what I wanted to do. Even then, I didn't really take their advice.

But I did fake myself out when I walked up to the nearest cart, saw a hot glue gun in it and walked away before I realized it was actually mine.

Ha ha.

Just to be clear, husband told me he hated that color of mustardy yellow when I tried to include him in my decorating scheme for the front room, and really didn't want it to be a base color.

Since he failed to agree with me, I ignored him and continued with the flower arrangement anyway.

How many husband's does it take to change a lightbulb?

Conversation. Of. The. Day

Husband is standing on the kitchen counter replacing the light bulbs in their new house. Katie is walking back into the kitchen after taking her multivitamin. Ryker is sniffing out a dead spider, undecided as to whether it deserves to be eaten if it's not going to put up a fight first.

Husband: Well, honey, we have a problem.

Katie: What?

The room is still cast in dim shadows despite his obvious attempts to bring light to the kitchen sink/cupboard area. Bulb boxes are scattered in disarray everywhere, as are the trails of cookie crumbs where Husband has walked.

Husband: This one is beyond me.

Katie reaches over to a different light switch and flips it. Light floods the once dark crevices of the sink and cupboard.

Husband turns to his three boxes of Creme de Menthe cookies to make up the room in his body for all his lost pride. Ryker abandons him as well as the shriveled spider.