My husband, Garth (not his real name) is a good guy.  I mean, like, Eagle Scout good and anyone who knows us (IRL) would most definitely agree adding, "Well, the man IS married to you."

Aaaaand, I'm okay with it (the fact that he's married to me AND the aforementioned euphemism) because, trust me, I am WELL aware of my own limitations.

Like, my inability to withstand the mechanical forces of the earth's gravitational pull (I fall down, A LOT!) or, my penchant for breaking things...okay...wait...for...it...A LOT!

Then, my lack of patience (see also: previous paragraph) is legendary, which makes me simultaneously annoying and popular with the customer service set.

Oh, and the fact that my husband left the house feeling a bit hacked-off (sorry, had kids home sick this week and have Harry Potter and The Deathly Hollows Part II on the brain) and I'm sitting here, acting all misunderstood and everything, with a bazillion OTHER THINGS I SHOULD BE DOING, LIKE:

• Clean the house:  but, it's raining and the vacuum is very-nearly-dead.
• Wash the dishes:  dishwasher is...wait...for...it...broken.
• Fold laundry:  don't want to disturb the cat.
• Wrangle the killer dust bunnies:  I believe in raising 'em free range.
• Go grocery shopping:  although, I did find some hot dogs and sandwich bread.
• Get my oil changed:  in the car I mean, mine is fine (I think).
• Continue ignoring the fact I've got a kid graduating high school in, like, 2 weeks:  enough said.
• Prepare for the Zombie Apocalypse:  it's coming, y'all.

Aaaaand, this is the part where you guys should be all...like...dude, is your husband ever coming back?

I hope so.  For as much as he thinks I hate him, at the moment, truth is I love Garth (not his real name) more than my Dyson (may it rest in peace) and can't imagine celebrating another day (above ground) without him.

He is my good-er half.

Also, our niece is getting married next summer and you know the part where the officiant happily declares the newly married couple as man and wife?

It's going to take ALL of my strength NOT to holler out:  brace yourselves, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!

Besides, NO ONE is better at putting their hand over my mouth, without ruining my lipstick, than Garth (not his real name) and...wait a second...I really DID mean that, literally...although, on second thought...um...never mind.

I can hear the zombies now, "No brains!  Move along!" 

You are safe here, my friends, stupid euphemisms.

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