I want to make it clear that I adore my husband. He is my second one. I had to survive 13 years with a spectacularly crappy one to get to Joe and he was worth it. It was important to get that out there. You might doubt it when I mention that if the economy doesn’t pick up soon so he can get back to work Joe will be dead and my new address will be Leavenworth.
He has some pretty strong opinions, no volume control and a let’s say an “unique talent” for expressing himself. Don’t ever get him started on conspiracy theories. This is tougher than it sounds as he has plots implicating lawyers, oil companies, the FBI and CIA, maybe the Israelis, rich people in general and definitely Wayne Brady and the Let’s Make A Deal Show. Drew Carey and The Price is Right have not made the list but I have. After trick or treating for 2 hours in the freezing drizzle, I declined to make his supper. That night I could be crazy, I might be mean and I was undoubtedly going to starve him to death. By the way, watch out for those bloodsuckers at The American Red Cross. There’s no way somebody isn’t get rich out of that deal.
Then there are the medical conditions. Anal Glaucoma is when he can’t see his ass doing any work and is more contagious than the Swine Flu. An outbreak of this can and has taken out the entire family in less than thirty seconds. Boxer Bunch means there is no hope of peace until his current objective is achieved. These objectives range from finding the Gettysburg Address online to locating the receipt for a ten-year-old lawn tractor, but outbreaks that are not dealt with promptly result just as certainly in epidemic.
He frequently refers to our ten-year-old as a “butt tumor”. I do not deny that she can be high maintenance especially when the three of us are home alone, but Joe is the hands down winner of the Wearing My Ass as a Hat award. A very handy guy who handles all home repairs, all his projects are the same. He makes a plan, announces his intentions, heads to the job, goes to work for 45 seconds and bellows, “ALEX!” Even if I am up to my elbows executing open-heart surgery, I have been drafted and it’s time to fall in. No idea what a rheostat even is but he lost it and I found it. He built 3 sheds in the back yard. I roofed three sheds in the back yard. He shot and butchered a deer. I learned to make summer sausage. He cooks supper and makes me a cake every year for my birthday and I even have to assist on that one. I really can’t blame him though. I brought it on myself. Should have known better than to hide everything from him when I moved in.