Theme Week - [GM]Susan Vol.1I just... I just don't get it.
Why do you people like her so much?
Oh, I like her. I like her a lot.
A large part of that, however, has to do with the several non-blog related things we do together.
That's code for hot, hot sex.
Only an absolute pig would mention the hot, hot sex.
Hot, hot sex.
Anyway, by popular demand, the theme for this week will be my darling wife. The woman who takes care of me (read: reminds me to eat and shower occasionally) and makes life worth living.
We're going to spend a week talking about how freaking insane she is.
This will be:
b) used as evidence in a future divorce proceeding.
_ _ _ _ _ _
Susan, the Obsessive Compulsive
One of the more interesting tidbits about my lovely wife is that she is incredibly obsessive compulsive about cleanliness.
This makes our marriage very interesting as I am not.
Not at all.
I'm more of a... Free spirit.
That's the nicest way I could think of to say "ridiculously lazy".
Here's an extremely common discussion we have:
Susan>> Why'd you leave this dish on the counter?
Dave>> Well, it was empty.
Dave>> As it had no more food, I had no more need for it.
Dave>> Holding on to it for sentimental reasons might be weird.
Susan>> Yes, but why is it on the counter?
Dave>> It would have been rude to leave it on the floor?
Susan>> The dish washer is right there.
Susan>> RIGHT THERE.
Dave>> Look at that.
Susan>> How hard is it to just put your dish in the dish washer?
Dave>> I have no idea.
Dave>> I'm hoping I never have to find out.
Dave>> That's what counters are for.
Susan>> You're impossible.
Dave>> But I still think I have a valid point about the counters.
A half hour later, I'll leave another dish on the counter.
Even closer to the dish washer.
Do you see the problem in this situation?
If she could just accept that my way of doing things is more efficient, we wouldn't have any arguments.
Clothes are supposed to go on the floor. Everybody knows that.
How the hell else are you supposed to keep track of what you wore yesterday?
Or the day before?
Or last Tuesday?
But no. Every time, she has to make this huge deal about it.
Yeah, we hadn't seen the carpet in a while.
So what? I remember what color it was.
And yeah, sure, our daughter may have gotten lost once...
We found her.
It was like a big game of peek-a-boo.
Only instead of hands, her face was covered by some sweat pants and my Superman t-shirt.
No, I'm serious. Some of that shit was actually bonded to the child. It was like a scene from Spiderman 3, but without the emo.
But did my wife see the cuteness of the situation?
Of course not.
She was all "Why are you taking pictures? She's got your jeans wrapped around her throat."
I mean c'mon...
How crazy can you get?