Hello earthlings! I have a yarn to weave!
First of all I swore I would never tell this story but every time I do it gets a little more funny so I figure why the heck not, ya know?
Secondly I follow a lot of blogs and they're mostly young wives that talk about the woes of house-wifley arts and I gotta tell ya... I don't have enough hours in the day for that shit. "Aw your pie crust wasn't the right color? Cry me a river". And I know, in a couple years, I'll be 6 kids in and 50 pounds heavier and you'll all make me eat my words. For right now just leave me my vices.
Living with someone is weird, it just is. I have no romantic misconceptions of how wonderful cohabitation is. When we were first living together I could not sleep to save my life. He's too hot, he snores, he's bigger then I am so when I fall asleep gravity compels me to roll towards him. It's anarchy. Also sharing a bathroom is its own horror. So one fitful night I found myself drifting in and out of sleep. At about 3am I was awoken suddenly by the sound of water hitting the carpet.
As my eyes flew open, I rapidly tried to get my neurons to make sense of the situation happening around me. I found myself in the dark, crouching over our laundry basket, which I can only assume in my sleep addled state I somehow mistook for the toilet, peeing full stream. The terror. The humanity. The unmitigated horror. This is a good spot to mention that we had just bought a new puppy that was observing me in my state as what can only be described as righteous indignation.
David woke as one being ripped from the grave screaming "is the dog peeing?!?!?!" I threw myself on the carpet "no!we're just playing" david slowly and suspiciously drifted off to sleep and I proceed to do the quickest load of laundry in my life.
Fin.
