Rewind. Remind.

I got to thinking that I have a few posts out there that I put up which suggested a conclusion was coming that I never posted. You know, in the "I'll let you know how it turns out" sort of fashion. So I decided to hunt some down and put out the updates. Just for fun. I originally posted this just over a year ago. If you are so inspired, click on the title below. It will take you to the original post where you can read the original comments if you wish, which were hilarious. Here it comes.

DANGIT DANGIT DANGIT!

I would use real curse words if it weren't for the blogs that list people's post titles. Rest assured I am thinking in big, bad, ugly curse words right now.

Fifteen years ago, give or take 2 years -I forget, I married the man I love for better or for worse. Sadly, the "worse" became quickly evident. The man I married, my baby Daddy, is an only child. He argues valiantly, and frequently, against the stereotype with his words. His upbringing was just like everyone elses. Exactly the same, only there was one of him. The fact that his parents let him select the radio station in the car was due to his parents being so exceptionally cool, not at all because he was the only one there, his parents were entirely focused only on him, and there was no one else to argue with about it, which are just a few of the opinions I had suggested. So, he insists that his life was never based in any way, on the fact that he was the only child in the house and every thing and everything anyone did, originated with the idea of caring for him, or making him happy in some way.

Not that I have any bitterness. Or envy. Whatever. Anyway.

So, one might imagine that living with someone brought up in such a way, would have advantages and disadvantages. I am not here to discuss the advantages, should I ever think of one. When it comes to disadvantages, if I were a different sort of blogger (the divorced kind for example), I could have a list but I don't. I do however, have one particular issue.

The man takes the last of everything. He does it with no regard for anyone else alive on the plant or in the same home. He will ague insistently that this is just me being picky. He ate the last of the chocolate ice cream when I was pregnant, people. Yes you read that correctly. Yes it was 5 years ago- so? Appalled aren't you? You should be. So you just take whichever side you think deserves your support and read on.

Here is the part that hurts. I have had to resort to hiding certain items of food that I might need later. Such as cookies. I can't hide ice cream, so I just gave up on buying that at all. But he will think nothing of masticating his way through an entire box of cookies while I sleep. Leaving me to find an empty shell in the recycling bin the next day. And cursing. Wildly.

So the other day I was in the store buying up a bunch of suck ass crap like cleaning supplies, bleach, laundry soap and other things that just mean more sucky work for me, and I bought some cookies. Really fancy cookies, that are pricey and only have like, 8, in the bag. Chocolate chunk brownie cookies. Mmmmmm.

AND I HID THEM FROM MY HUSBAND AND NOW I CANNOT FIND THEM!!!

I FORGOT WHERE I PUT THEM!!!

STOP LAUGHING THIS IS SERIOUS!!!

It is really bad, because I so clearly remember taking the action of hiding them in the first place. I deliberately removed them from the bag of cleaning crap and put them in our bedroom..... and that is where it all goes blank. BLANK!

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!

Update: you know, I eventually found those cookies but it took a long time. It was at least a month before it happened. I knew I had put them somewhere The Husband would be very highly unlikely to look but I just blanked out after that. It turns out I had put the bag of cookies in my closet, by that pile of "dry cleaning" that everyone has that never goes anywhere! 
Sure enough, a month later they were still there and you know what else?
I ATE THEM!


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