Not too long ago, both the Baron and I woke up with what appeared to be spider bites; his were on his hand, mine were - well, never you mind.
The action plan for this rather irksome situation was twofold:
1. Get thee to the calamine lotion, and
2. Wash every piece of bed linen in scalding hot water. Every. damn. piece.
Have I ever mentioned that I'm one of those?
One of those psycho women who likes a LOT of throw pillows? Big Euro shams, cylindrical neck pillows, teeny accent pillows. If it's got stuffing, it's on our bed.
(Which may or may not explain the roast chicken...)
(Well played, Baron. Well played.)
So, each of these had to be washed as well. Lovely.
During the all-day Laundry-Palooza Extravaganza, the Baron came to me with his very serious face. "Would you mind telling me please," he started, "what is on our bed?"
I think he may have been referring to this scenario:
"These?", I queried, my mind immediately embarking on how I could possibly explain this in a simple, reasonable way. I then quickly disembarked - there was no way but complicated.
Baron: "Yes, these." "Did the dog get into something - again?"
"Ahhhhhh", I sighed, relaxing, as I now realized why he would be concerned.
Me (inhaling deeply to say this all this in one breath): "No, it wasn't the dog. See, when I bought our new matelasse comforter set, the pillow shams it came with were for king-sized pillows, and I didn't have any extra king-size pillows, and I didn't want to buy any extra king-sized pillows, so I just used some regular-sized pillows, and stuffed the ends of the shams with stuffing."
Have you ever been to a city where they use those metal roller things over their storefront windows, and they pull them down and let them *BANG* to the ground?
I swear that was the sound the Baron's mind made. His eyes were glazed over. He was somewhere off in his happy place, free of laundry and odd spouses and long-winded explanations. Clearly, I had lost him at 'matelasse'.
In order to salvage the conversation, I switched tacts. "Actually, it was me. Perhaps you are not aware, but I can vomit clouds".
"Yup. Big fluffy ones - all over our bed. That was me."
*CLACKITY CLACKITY CLACKITY CLACK* (the sound of the rollers coming back up)
Baron: "Ahhhhhhhhhh. Well this makes perfect sense."
"Do you shit rainbows, too?"
Me: "You silly. Of course I do; why do you think that the medical community was so enamoured of my hind quarters a few years back, hmmm? Research, that's what. "
B: "Into clouds and rainbows?"
Me: "Damn straight. I'm a marvel - there's even talk that the Vatican is considering making me the Patron Sainte of Weather-Related Formations."
B: "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."
The action plan for this rather irksome situation was twofold:
1. Get thee to the calamine lotion, and
2. Wash every piece of bed linen in scalding hot water. Every. damn. piece.
Have I ever mentioned that I'm one of those?
One of those psycho women who likes a LOT of throw pillows? Big Euro shams, cylindrical neck pillows, teeny accent pillows. If it's got stuffing, it's on our bed.
(Which may or may not explain the roast chicken...)
(Well played, Baron. Well played.)
So, each of these had to be washed as well. Lovely.
During the all-day Laundry-Palooza Extravaganza, the Baron came to me with his very serious face. "Would you mind telling me please," he started, "what is on our bed?"
I think he may have been referring to this scenario:
"These?", I queried, my mind immediately embarking on how I could possibly explain this in a simple, reasonable way. I then quickly disembarked - there was no way but complicated.Baron: "Yes, these." "Did the dog get into something - again?"
"Ahhhhhh", I sighed, relaxing, as I now realized why he would be concerned.
Me (inhaling deeply to say this all this in one breath): "No, it wasn't the dog. See, when I bought our new matelasse comforter set, the pillow shams it came with were for king-sized pillows, and I didn't have any extra king-size pillows, and I didn't want to buy any extra king-sized pillows, so I just used some regular-sized pillows, and stuffed the ends of the shams with stuffing."
Have you ever been to a city where they use those metal roller things over their storefront windows, and they pull them down and let them *BANG* to the ground?
I swear that was the sound the Baron's mind made. His eyes were glazed over. He was somewhere off in his happy place, free of laundry and odd spouses and long-winded explanations. Clearly, I had lost him at 'matelasse'.
In order to salvage the conversation, I switched tacts. "Actually, it was me. Perhaps you are not aware, but I can vomit clouds".
"Yup. Big fluffy ones - all over our bed. That was me."
*CLACKITY CLACKITY CLACKITY CLACK* (the sound of the rollers coming back up)
Baron: "Ahhhhhhhhhh. Well this makes perfect sense."
"Do you shit rainbows, too?"
Me: "You silly. Of course I do; why do you think that the medical community was so enamoured of my hind quarters a few years back, hmmm? Research, that's what. "
B: "Into clouds and rainbows?"
Me: "Damn straight. I'm a marvel - there's even talk that the Vatican is considering making me the Patron Sainte of Weather-Related Formations."
B: "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh."
Simple/Complicated.
Complicated/Simple.
11 comments:
i always thought that rainbows would smell more like candy
Baron: My rainbows smell like Thrills gum and SweetTarts - what's up with yours? Or are you going to blame it on the dog - again?
That made me snot/laugh
I haven't been married very long but I have figured out that there are some things that my husband just does not want to know - is not capable of knowings. Not the big important stuff - its the little stuff like you just described.
When my husband asks a question where the answer is something he is not capable of knowing, the only correct answer is sarcasm.
I eschew throw pillows of any kind on the bed, mostly because my mom had so many on every bed growing up that I got burned on them. I do however have about ten throw pillows on the couch, most of them dog-humped by now.
I should probably wash them.
OMG!!!! I have to wash everything in hot water for my allergies, so I would never be able to vomit clouds like that. I do, however, have rainbows that smell like a nice fruit salad....
Jeez, no wonder you float so gracefully.
"Have you ever been to a city where they use those metal roller things over their storefront windows, and they pull them down and let them *BANG* to the ground?"
PSA Announcer: This is the Baron's brain sounding like Italy at 7 PM, any questions?
Ah, thank you ever so much for helping me get through work.
Is it any wonder I love you so? Thank goodness you did not poop rainbows on the flight... that would have been difficult to explain.
And if Fiona were there, she would have humped those clouds into submission.
Rainbow poots! Just Wonderful!
<><
You have missed your calling, but it's not too late. (So, I suppose you have *not* missed your calling..if in fact it's not too late. Good job, CBW, your English teacher would be proud.)
You and the Baron need to pack your bags and head to Hollywood - ride n on a rainbow and some clouds. I see a comedy hour in your future, seriously.
One question was that fluff the stuff we used to pad our butts last year for the underware affair because I think I recognized one of those bunches from my left butt cheek.....no wonder it smelled like gum you know i do swallow my gum
Countess Judy: Sarcasm - it's not just for breakfast anymore.
Countess FF: Mercifully, Zeus the pug only humps one particular item - look for your Save The Date postcard in the mail coming soon!
Countess Mama: Starfruit or mangoes?
(mental note: do not have the fruit salad at MPM house...)
Count Cormac: Italy. Got it. Clearly, I need to do some extensive traveling to be able to provide more apt metaphors. I'll get right on that.
Countess Diane: You may have thought differently, but how EXACTLY do you think that planes are able to float in the air? Forget physics, doll, at LOOK. AT. ME. As for Fiona, maybe she and Zeus should get together. At least they could go through the motions.
Countess NNG: Is this like Rainbow Brite? Am I sensing that I'm about to have a new nickname?
Countess CBW: Oh, ho, ho. I shall market us thusly, "Less stupid than the Osbornes, and more tasteful that the Simmons". I'll let you know how all this turns out.
Countess of YY: I actually laughed out loud on this one! Because that is EXACTLY what those puffs are from. Don't worry - I sprayed them with perfume. So they smell like peppermint French Lime Blossom. Yummy!!
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