I love the trendy top. As seen on TV…

Day 33 of the husband being off of work. We have our good days and our bad days. I met the husband 13 years ago. I met him at a bar because that is what I did 13 years ago. I was with a few girlfriends and we actually were meeting his friend who was a friend of my friend. A local band was playing at a local bar and the drinks were flowing nicely.
The husband’s friend, a guy I will call Tom, is quite the character. One of the girls I was with was hitting on him; he was hitting on the other. In the whole mess of the night, his recent ex-fiancée showed up. No matter to me. Tom is in my whole “stinky sweaty balls” category of men I never wish to encounter naked. I meandered up to the bar next to my future husband, made fun of Tom, and bought him a drink. That easy? Yes.
The next morning, my roommate and the other girl we took to the bar with us, barged into my room where the future husband and I were post-coital sleeping. “Did you do it? Did you do it?”
I was so embarrassed. My 6 month drought had thankfully ended, but really, did my partner need to know this at 9:00 a.m.? He admitted being terrified. I did not care. The drought had ended.
Fast forward 13 years. No one barges into our room anymore. The kids learned a long time ago that we sleep naked. Kid #2 swears he is permanently scarred for life after trying to wake up his dad once (the blankets had escaped the husband’s backside).
Since he has been off work, the husband has been sleeping a little later and wearing a shirt a little less often. I try not to give him too much shit. His job usually requires significant amounts of overtime working with significantly high voltage and wires and heights that scare the fuck out of me. (Should I insert Primary Beneficiary here?)
If I did not go to work for 3 months, my house would be immaculate, my files would be impeccable, and the cabinets would be organized. Elaborate dinners would grace the kitchen table nightly. My ass would be rock hard after hours on the treadmill. Not that I’m bitter.
The husband? He orders stuff online for the motorcycle he is building in his half of the garage. He bought a motorcycle last year. And another one this year. And apparently he is melding them somehow together into a new bike and then selling the leftovers to a friend to help build his friend’s bike. What the fuck? Are you kidding me? Again, thanks to the overtime I try not to give him too much shit. I asked him yesterday if he was going to start inviting the UPS guy to Thanksgiving dinner. I do believe the husband sees him more than me.
The husband has also been catching up on appointments. Post surgical, the dentist, the eye doctor, etc. I came home from work one day and he proudly showed me his new glasses. Irritated by my lack of the proper response, I shrugged and apologized.
“They look like your old ones,” I said.
He half heartedly agreed and proceeded to tell me about the pair he should have gotten. Military style ones. He said he might go to eyeglasses.com and order a pair.
“What? They don’t have them on QVC?” I asked.
Somewhat offended, he responded, “You’re the one that orders all that ‘As Seen on TV” bullshit.”
Somewhat offended, I responded, “No I don’t. I buy it on clearance at the store.”
On a roll now, he said, “What about all the stuff you order from Jew-pon?” (Groupon, and yes I am guilty.)
He won. But he still buys more shit online than I do.

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