Anyway, after the shots, and my fretful deep breathing, we got into the car and the husband said, "Hey, let's go to Costco and Best Buy."
My immediate reaction was, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? MY ARM HURTS AND I MAY BE DYING FROM SOME WEIRD INOCULATION THAT A SECRET GOVERNMENT AGENCY IS TESTING ON WHITE WOMEN IN THE SUBURBS." [I may need to stop watching the X Files for a bit.]
He was less than impressed by my logic, so we went to Costco, me with my window open on a 45 degree day, trying to get some fresh air in order to counteract the possible toxins seeping into my system, him shaking his head. I debated sticking my head out the window like a dog in order to truly benefit from the fresh air, but I don't like dogs.
As we neared Costco, I quaveringly said to the husband, "Please take care of me if I pass out in Costco."
At which point he said to me, "What the fuck do you think I'd do if you passed out in Costco? Walk away? Is that the kind of man you think I am?"
I half-laughed, and said, "No. You're right. Sorry."
And he replied, "Besides, they'd track me down and call me, saying, 'Mr. Husband, do you realize that you left your wife passed out near the Halloween candy displays?' and I'd say, "No, I don't know what you're talking about,' and they'd say, 'Sir, we have you on our store video cameras sauntering away as your wife slides down a mountain of mini-candy bars. Can you come back here, please?' and then I'd have to come back and take care of you anyway."
This is what I'm married to.
Also, are there any good design blogs that aren't shabby chic or [shudder] mid-century modern [Gah, the only thing that came out the 1950s was Fidel Castro. Wait. Dead or alive? Alive, right? . . . Back from checking. He's alive AND according to Wikipedia, WE SHARE THE SAME BIRTHDAY. How did I not know this? Next year, Fidel and I are having a fucking crazy party. You're all invited. It's going to be sick. We're registered at Pottery Barn.] or, worse yet, that super-minimalist modern look. Does anyone want to come over and help me
This post has become even more ridiculous than my usual ones. I would apologize, but I think it works to give you a feeling of superiority.
As I have mentioned, I'm going to be doing NaNoWriMo this year. Because why not? I'm a glutton for punishment, you know? Why do you think I still try to buy shoes online when I KNOW that they won't work and then the box sits there, unopened, taunting me, letting me know that my dream of red Mary Janes is just. not. happening. Thank god for free shipping, is all I have to say.
Anyway, since I'm doing NaNo, I'm dropping down to posting twice a week. My anal retentive OCD mind wants it to be Tuesdays and Thursdays, because that would be spaced out nicely, but here it is MONDAY, which means I could either do Monday-Tuesday-Thursday this week, which is LOPSIDED AND WRONG, or I could do Monday-Wednesday this week and then go to Tuesday-Thursday next week, which is asymmetrical and has me reaching for my inhaler. I'm not sure which will happen. Let's have it be a surprise.
I can't do that either.
It's Monday-Wednesday this week, and then we move to Tuesday-Thursday. Unless it's a leap year. Then we're all fucked.