It's not about the house.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

As God Is My Witness, I'll Never Go Spongeless Again!

I've got nothing to say.

Only, I realized while I was at work that the title above (do you read the titles? I hope you do. I work awfully hard at them) is what this morning's blog post really wanted to be called. But if I just went back and changed it, no-one would notice. So I posted again.

Oh, but since I'm posting anyway, I'll tell you this (consider it my bony gift to you):

Wanna know the nice thing about being a girl and having a husband? Especially a husband from the Old Country, trained in Old Country etiquette?

If you're cold, and you turn to him and say "Give me your sweatshirt" -- even with no explanation -- he freaking does it! Takes the sweatshirt off his back and hands it over!

Dang, why didn't I cotton to this girlie crap two (or three) decades ago?


Jenni said...

I see the sun setting in the background and your patriotic House and I avatar lady gripping a sponge off the floor. Just like Scarlett, but different.

EGE said...

And that MEANS something, coming from a southern girl!

donnastaf said...

Cut yourself some slack!you went to an all girls college when you were what?... twelve? About the time you would have started learning this chivalry stuff! Those chicks taught you self sufficiency when they let you freeze!

EGE said...

Hm, I never thought about the whole stunting-sex-relations-in-the-midst-of-puberty angle before. Yeah! I think I'll keep it. It will come in very handy, very soon...

Thanks, Donna!