Up & At ‘Em

I am up at 8 A.M. On a Saturday. For the blogathon. About an issue that’s very had to talk about.

I sit here and try to wake up.

My husband is laughing so hard at lolcats on Caturdays I fear he will choke on his peanut butter toast — toast which, by the way, he butters prior to slathering on the peanut butter. Something I and his trying-to-lower-his-cholesterol doctor remind him is not a good idea, but hubby does it anyway…

Which leaves me, as the wifey, to chose between naggin’ him (and all that implies of his reaction to me as “the nag”) and considering life as a widow.

Some choice.

From the sound of his laughter, I’m pretty sure my husband has and continues to suffer from some sort of oxygen deprivation.

This may explain the, ah, immature, developmentally delayed laughter at Caturdays.

And his resistance to addressing his cholesterol issue by only putting peanut butter or butter on his toast.

…Oh, I’m wondering if our marriage will survive this day *wink*

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2 Comments

  1. Don’t help him out — I’m worried about his cholesterol, his heart, my becoming a widow!

    Why do men complain that we worry about their health — if we didn’t, who would?

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