So last night, I’m in bed about to go to sleep, when the following conversation occurs.
Mrs. Ahab: Honey, can you wash the sheets tomorrow?
Me: Sure.
Mrs. Ahab: Oh, and there’s a black spot on the (bright yellow) comforter. If it doesn’t come out and it’s some kind of gun/oil/lube stain…(her voice trails off, leaving the threat to be inferred by me, which is a lot scarier).
Me: Uh…okay, I’ll take care of it.
Mrs. Ahab: I can’t think of anything else it could be. So it had better come out.
Me: Yup. (trying to act calm)
See, in my head, I’m having a panic attack, because I do practice magazine change drills over the bed, but never with lubed up mags and certainly not over the yellow comforter…I think.
Anyway, if I don’t post tomorrow, it’s because I’m dead.
Um… been there, done that. Here’s a marriage tip from one dude to another:
Use a laundry basket. (Maybe add some gym-worthy clothing… DO NOT PRACTICE IF HER DESIGNER STUFF IS IN THE BASKET, EH? [Been there, done that…])
Stain came out, will not be getting murdered.
I was worried; it’s almost noon and you had nothing up…
Heh, that’s more because I’m sick and have been sleeping in this past two mornings.
Hoppes #9 will take the stain right off the kitchen table.
Just FYI…
“I’ll take care of it” — good answer; up to and including buying new sheets instead of more ammo…glad you didn’t have to.
lol, good to know that the blogosphere will not have one less blogger.