1) Trip to Home Depot for moving boxes.
2) The dog park.
3) Department store.
4) Geocaching. (Okay, that one was actually fun.)
5) The transfer station.
6) My doctor’s appt.
7) The hospital E.R.

I’m not kidding. I can’t make this stuff up. It’s real, people.

The sweet words only came up because we were having a …well, a disagreement? I guess? It was one of those …disagreements…that comes about as a result of someone, namely me, stumbling on something, namely a long and sordid email chain, and then getting angry with someone, namely matt, all over again. You follow? No, I don’t either.

Okay. So I found an old email tonight. I mean, old. Not like three weeks ago old, more like 5 YEARS ago old. It was an argument between me and Matt, long since resolved. But I got angry. I was surprised cause it just sort of welled up in me, but whooooo boy was I pissed! Matt’s sitting across from me in the living room, blissfully unaware of what’s about to hit him, smiling serenly, not a care in the world. Then KABOOM! I’m all like,

“Oh you BAStarD! I loved you so much and you treated me SO bad. You were HORRIBLE TO Me. HORriBle!@”

And he’s all, “Uh, come again?”

And he’s got that look on his face. That deer caught in the headlights look that means, “Oh frick. I’m in trouble and I don’t know what I did— QUICK! What did I DO!!!?”

We took it out to the garage. I was all like, “Blah blah blah remember that one time you did that one thing in that one place!?”

and he’s like, “Uh, what?”

“And then remember that time you broke up with me in front of the TANNING SALON? RIght in front of the tanning salon! It was broad daylight, Matthew! Broad DAYLIGHT. Not night time. Not on a dark and stormy night when these things are supposed to happen, but in the daytime. ON a TUESDAYYYY!”

and he’s like, “I was — You were — We –uh, what???!??”

“And you just kept breaking my heart and then everytime I tried to get away from you and keep away from you and block your calls and refuse to see you or speak to you or think about you, you ALWAYS had to worm your way back in!”

and he’s like, “….”

“And you took long enough. Holy Taco on Asian Tuesday you took forever! You horrible bastard. Shame on you. SHAME.”

and then he muttered some more and finally, in a last ditch effort to somehow turn this thing around, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what this thing was or how he got in the middle of it, he decided to go all,

“Oh come on, baby. You know I’ve always loved you. You know I couldn’t stand to hurt you….something, something, something, something, drug to me, something, had to have you, something something.”

and then I forgot why I was mad in the first place and then I was fine again.

UNTIL NOW. NOW I see how he does it. All these years. I’ve been such a fool.

I love that about him.

ANYWAY. My toe hurt so bad I couldn’t stand it. We’re talking white-hot, searing, eye-watering hurt here. I’m limping around and grimacing, being oh so very brave, I was. I didn’t complain or whine or even mention it. I just carried on with my tasks of the evening, cooking, cleaning, generally saving the universe from evil on an hourly basis. But still, I said nothing of my pain. It was really touching. But somehow, he notices anyway. He wants to take a look at it. He sterilizes my pedicure nail tool set thingamabobber and whips out his Surefire flashlight. It was all very MacGyver-y of him. So I’m sitting in the living room with my feet up on the ottoman, Matt is bending over my right foot with flashlight and nail file in hand — stabbing -STABBING my toe like there was no tomorrow. I’m moaning in excrutiating pain and Matt is making little man-grunting noises that sound like, “Shup! Me Man. Me Work. You woman. You hush.” But that could have been just my imagination. That’s when Jacob walked in.

“Uh, what are you guys doing?”
I can’t say anything. All I can do is stifle the scream of pain that wants to escape my mouth so therefore my fist stuffed halfway in my mouth is perfectly logical. I turn and look at him through wide, pained eyes.
Without missing a beat, however, Matt says,
“I’m punishing her for her behaviour.”

—-

Jacob sighed loudly and deliberately and escaped through the front door, barely looking over his shoulder to say, “Good luck with that.”

Ah, Matt. Warping our children’s minds in new and exciting ways each and every day. He’s *very* devoted. I’m wondering if that could be the reason Jacob is spending more and more time out of the house since he turned 15?

We stayed in a beautiful chalet-like thingamabob that sat literally right on the river. We took the dogs. We soaked in some rare sunshine on the back deck. We watched some movies and just generally relaxed. One night we stayed up until the sun rose to meet us.

That was by accident. After watching three movies (all horribly done) in a row, we drug ourselves to bed to crash out. Only it suddenly dawned on me that I was now three hours into my birthday and, as such, I am now 36 years old. That’s when I had a complete emotional and psychological breakdown. Poor, poor Matt. He had to sit there and listen as I raged and wept and mourned the passage of time and my inability to slow it. I was bitter and sad and angry and wistful all at the same time. He lay there and held me and encouraged me to get it all out, let it all go, and made me feel just generally better and more hopeful. We finally slept sometime around five in the morning.

It was probably just hormones, just a temporary rush of chemicals and lunacy coursing wildly through my veins. It’s over now. We got through it. It’s nice to know I have someone who cares enough to stay up all through the night with me until I feel like life is worthing living all over again, someone who points out the light when all I can see is the blackness of night. I got a lot of really cool stuff for my birthday, but that was most likely the coolest.

But he rebounds.

He begins doing a little striptease for me. He rips off his shirt. He flexes his muscles. He looks at me with that, “Come hither” stare….I laugh and laugh and laugh. Then, I’m begging him to stop.

“PLEASe, PLEASE! I can’t take anymore. My stomach hurts. Don’t make me laugh anymore! I’ve got a tummy ache dammit!”

To which he so cleverly replies,

“Does your stomach hurt? Cause you’ve been doing the worm through my dreams all night.”

In case you don’t know what “The Worm” is….allow me:

I know, right? Dead Sexy. Too bad my tummy exploded from laughing so hard and I couldn’t even enjoy the sweet, sweet sexin’ that was sure to happen after that line.

Matt was surfing the web and he came across some website that talked about robot hookers. Seriously. They’re like animatronic blow up dolls and men have sex with them. So there were some questions on this site. Does that constitute cheating? What if you walked in on it and witnessed it? Would that bother you? Would you be more or less upset if it was a celebrity lookalike robotic hooker? What if it looked like someone you both know?

I am not lying to you, these are the types of conversations we get into.

So he, of course, pressed me to answer them. I told him I thought it was basically just another form of masturbation, so I wouldn’t be particularly bothered by it, so long as it DIDN’T resemble anyone we know. Besides, sex machines for women have been around forever and I don’t hear anyone grumbling about that. That’s basically what it is. A sex machine.

But then, we were watching some SNL clips and a parody commercial came on. It was for the new Mercury Mistress, car that is so sexy and so responsive, you will definitely want to have sex with it. Then it goes on to show a guy revealing the fleshlight built into the car’s trunk. Hilarity ensues.

So of course the commercial ends and this happens:

Matt: “I bet a woman wrote that. But a lot of men are sitting around going, hey, you know whaaaaat…..?”

I stare at him in silence.

“Cause, you know, I’ve seen some cars I thought were really sexy. ”

I stare harder.

“Uh, as in…I wouldn’t mind having sex with them?”

At this point I swallow my tongue and tell him, “Look, a robotic hooker that looks nothing like anyone we know is one thing, but if you so much as TOUCH our cars I am going to be very cross!”

He laughed, but I could tell. He had thought about it. He was thinking about it then.

I woke up the second time about two hours later. I crawled out of bed and looked around the empty room wondering where Matt was. I drug myself over to my chair in the corner and pulled my knees up, tucking my feet in under me. I looked around the room some more. I’m not sure what I was looking for. I think I thought he would magically materialize before my very eyes. Or something.

It’s just very weird to expect something, to have no reason not to expect something, and then have it not be there. That’s all I’m saying. And I was expecting to wake up next to Matt on this Sunday morning.

Then I started percolating.

I wondered. Have I come there, then? Has he really gone off to play golf? He and my brother had been talking about it last night. But he never mentioned it to me. Am I really there? Is this the place where you wake up and find your man is vanished? Off and gone before everyone else to sneak in a few holes of golf? Did he not tell me because he thought I would say no? Why would I do that? Because Sundays are family days? Because he just played golf with him all day Saturday? Because for weeks now it’s been nothing but golf, golf, golf?? Because I’m a manipulative, controlling shrew and he’s not a big boy so he needs to ask for permission? Maybe that’s it. Maybe he didn’t feel the need to ask for permission or even let me know where he was going. Well, that’s just stupid.

But then, right in the middle of that rational and reasoned reverie, he bursts in and sets me straight. It turns out he wasn’t golfing at all. He was kidnapped by aliens and forced to teach them the ways of our people.

Shewwwww! I’m SO glad i didn’t jump to conclusions and assume the worst about him! He’s SUCH a good man!