Well, I was using the comment section to answer Cyndi, but decided I had a lot to ramble on. What are my plans for today? Forcing myself to eat ALL of my husband’s cookies before he gets home (hehee).
Let me start from the top. Don’t ask why, but for some reason since my hubby was a toddler, his breakfast of choice has been Chips-A-Hoy chocolate chip cookies served as cereal. But there’s more to it than that. Over the years, he’s mastered a certain technique of getting the cookies in the bowl. We’ve been married now for over three years–AND I STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN THIS DOWN. So, I leave the bowl fixing to him. But that’s still not all.
He has to eat them out of a certain bowl or he thinks it tastes funny (have I mention he can be a little picky?). You know those plastic bowels with the straw attached to the side of them? Yep. That’s the bowls. He will honestly, wash one of these plastic peices-of-crap with no telling what’s hidding in that nappy straw before he’ll use one of our ‘big people’ bowls.
So, anyway, after my hubby has arranged the cookies in the bowl by putting (and I’m estimating here, because I can’t figure it out) three whole cookies in first, then he’ll break four in half-never thirds, add two more whole ones, break two more, and top it off with two whole ones again, I’ll walk by, grab the two whole ones off the top and proceed on my merry little way. I simply do this to aggrivate. He’s very touchy with his cookies.
So why am I eating the only bag before he gets home? Because he’s aggrivating me and I’m returning the favor. He gives me a call, says he’s coming home after a quick stop by his parents, and asks, do I need anything? Sure, I say, swing by and get me some salsa and chips. And all is happy with me. Until….
He calls something like thirty minutes later and tells me he’s just gotten off his keister and left where he’s at. I COULD HAVE WENT AND GOTTEN MY OWN FREAKING SALSA BY NOW!!! Well, by now, it’s all about revenge, so I’m eating his breakfast that he thinks will be there for him in the morning.
I think I’m a little spiteful–and since I know it, it must be a strength and not a weakness. My hubby would simply say I’m a handful and my mother would say I act like my step-dad.
So let me go finish my Saturday plans.