"You never listen to me!" The irony of my husband's complaint is not lost on me. In fact I can remember a day in the recent past when I painstakingly told him which crack to seal in the newly-raised sidewalk and, instead, he went out and shot his caulk (sniggggger) all over the place and then whined "But YOU SAAAAAID!" and I hadn't. Not at all.
So as I sit here and painstakingly rub at the freckles and speckles of black paint that dot my arms and hands, I think about how maybe I should have waited for him to help me. Maybe I should've had him stir the paint and roll the rollers as I seem to have painted myself more than the wall. And seeing as how this paint is magnetic there is a good chance I'll be unable to leave the house due to the giant metal entry doors pulling me and my painted self back inside.
My house will try to eat me.
Which would make a great horror movie.
Wait? Hasn't that been done - to death?
"You don't listen, do you? Holly?" Big Harry was on the other end of the phone, apparently talking to me.
"Sure I do. Suuuuuure," I said and then tuned him out as he threatened to do something involving me, the car, hurting me and ----- buying me a pony.
Well - I wasn't really paying that much attention. :)