Site icon The Bloggess

A letter to my very anal husband who is asleep in the other room

Hi. 

I know.  The weird pattern in the butter dish, right?  By now you’ve surely discovered it and are probably freaking out.  Well, last night I discovered that if I make eggos I can skip the butter knife and just drop the waffle in the butter tub.  It’s awesome.  Except that the hot waffle melts a weird pattern in the butter like an all-yellow plaid and the plastic tub melts a bit.  I know you’d prefer I use a knife because you’re kind of a little neurotic about this stuff but honestly I’m just not that kind of girl.  Mostly because I’m trying to save the environment by not dirtying a knife that would have to be washed.  I’m kind of a hero.  Also the knives are like all the way on the other side of the kitchen.  Poor planning on your part.  And by “on your part” I mean “by letting me unpack the kitchen when we moved in”.  I mean, I guess we could just switch the utensil drawer with the take-out menu drawer but that seems like a lot of work.  Unless I just pulled out the drawers completely and switched them!

Okay, now we have two drawers lying on the kitchen floor.  I got them both out but I can’t get them back in.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me.  Don’t look in the butter dish.

PS.  If anything you should be thanking me for the butter texturizer.  Remember that fucking ridiculous kick-ass burberrry car we saw and you were all “Wow!  I wish someone would do that to my car butter!”  Well, merry Christmas, asshole.

PPS.  I’m sorry I called you an asshole.  That was uncalled for.  Also, by now you’ve read this post and will surely exclaim that you did not ask me to burberry the car or anything else but really, you’ve got more important things to focus on.  Like fixing the 3 drawers that are on the kitchen floor.  I know.  But I thought if I took one more out slowly I could see how it worked and fix the others before you wake up but that totally didn’t work.  But I stopped at three.  You’re welcome.

PPPS.  Shit!  Okay, I thought maybe one more would give me the secret putting-the-drawer-back key.  Turns out?  Not so much.  At this point I’m considering setting fire to the kitchen to cover my tracks but I’m sure you’d just blame that on me too.  So I won’t because I know you’d be a jerk about it.  Also because that would be wrong and I would never set fire to our house.

PPPPS.  Okay, I just set fire to the house but it was on accident.  I was trying to make you a pizza for breakfast and accidentally put a bunch of towels in the oven.  I know it seems suspicious since I was just talking about burning down the house but it’s just a horrible, horrible coincidence.  I have to think that this never would have happened had our builders not put the bathroom so close to the oven.  It’s like they wanted me to set fire to the house.  Those guys are the assholes.  Not you.  I love you. 

PPPPPS.  I’m going to stop at the store on the way home and buy you your very own tub of butter so you don’t have to see the melty burberry one.  I’m sorry.  I don’t know why I didn’t just think of that in the first place.

PPPPPPS. None of this is actually true except for the butter part.  Aren’t you relieved?  I know you are.  And now you’re much less likely to freak out about the butter because, Jesus, it’s not like I tried to burn the house down (except for that one time when I did but that was an accident and the builder’s fault too because who the hell leaves the oven instructions inside the oven?  Someone who wants us all dead, that’s who.)  This was all just an exercise in perspective.

PPPPPPPS. Don’t look in the butter dish.

Comment of the day: I just shaved our dog to distract my kids from the dead hamster. It’s all about smoke and mirrors and subterfuge.  ~CarolynOnline

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