December 16, 2009
Jared got home approximately six minutes ago and that man has had nothing but not-nice things to say about by homemaking tendencies since the moment he stepped through the door.
I swear, if I had the option, there are days where I'd return my husband to Big Lots for nothing but a store credit.
I made him dinner--homemade sweet potato soup, pictured above--and I was like, "Say nothing about the salad bowl, Jared. Don't say a thing."
And do you know what he did? He said it. Of course he said it. He was all, "Why's my soup in a gigantic salad bowl, woman?!"
To which I calmly replied, "It's in a salad bowl for two reasons. First, all of the soup bowls are dirty, and second, I'm not convinced that I love you enough to wash one."
In response, Jared decided to kick it up a notch and hit me where it really hurts--the laundry department. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a very crumpled receipt and said, "Do you have any idea when this receipt is from?"
I remained silent, offering nothing but my patented biz-natch glare as an answer.
"October 15th. These pants haven't been washed since October 15th. It might be time, Amy."
I laughed and laughed and laughed some more. "October 15th? That's nothing, Jared. Last fall I put a sweater on and found a movie ticket stub from when I went to see 'Flubber' in 1996."
(I'm very sorry to say that I'm not making that up.)
At that point, Jared gave me a super disgusted look and goes, "You went to see Flubber when you were in high school? What were the cool kids doing?"
TEAM JARED: 1
TEAM AMY: 0
(...in case you missed it, there's another new post down there)