The Sweet Husband

The Sweet Husband and the Fly

My sweet husband is really anal about some things. I can hear his sisters in my head, at this very moment, saying,SOME things? Ok, I give you that, he's anal about a lot of things. That is probably the reason we do well together, you need a little of that, I have none. You also need a little of just not giving a damn, I am overloaded with that, and it just isn't in his DNA, he gives a damn about EVERYTHING, no matter how trivial, so we trade off.

Yesterday, when I went to check the mail, apparently, I deliberately and with deep malicious intent sent a personal invitation to a fly to come into the living room.

Even with sore ribs, he is up hobbling around the living room, looking for this fly, and I keep telling him, sit down babe, it will light eventually and I will swat it.

We have one of those vaulted living rooms, the ceilings are so high that even the SH can't change a light bulb without getting on a ladder.  The super fly, landed on one of the light fixtures. He could see it, he just couldn't reach it.

I look around and he is standing on a wooden box, and he swings so hard that the light blub shatters and glass goes every where, and he falls off the box and jars his ribs again.

I asked, very politely, may I add, if I needed to get him his 45, I get up,taking him his house shoes, so he doesn't step on glass, get the glass all cleaned up, he still isn't talking.

Then I tell him that the fly just lit on the television and if he went anywhere near the TV I was packing his clothes and he could live in the garage.

The next few sentences went like this.

1. You are sure mean, I don't remember you being that mean.
2. Who knew that glass would break like that, I must have more strength than I thought.
3. That SOB is just jerking me around now, he's making fun of me.
4. That bitch just landed on my table, if I miss him this time I AM using the 45.

Thank God he didn't miss!