Today I'm getting equal parts ranty and whiny about whitegoods.
Whitegoods and #1Hubby.
Whitegoods and #1Hubby and my place in his heart.
During the week, #1Hubby went out and purchased a new ironing board cover.
I don't iron, ever. So he alerted me to his purchase by making out with said ironing board. FFS.
Clearly the end of the Olympics has caused some sort of mental breakdown in his sports-addicted self. FFS.
Not only did he buy a new ironing board cover, he get it from one of the most expensive stores in all the land. FFS.
Clearly the man has no shopping sense. FFS.
#1Hubby appears to be dry-humping his beloved ironing board. Coincidence? I think not. FFS.
He paid the equivalent of three 4 liter casks a couple of bottles of impressive wine. The kind you would gladly walk into a restaurant or dinner party brandishing the label of, hoping that others will notice. FFS.
I have caught #1Hubby talking to the ironing board cover more than one. FFS.
I'm talking sweet talking, whispering sweet nothings at it when he knows I'm around. FFS.
I genuinely believe his emergency evacuation list of priorities has changed, and I am the loser. FFS.
#1Hubby's Emergency Evacuation Plan Pre-fancy pants ironing board cover:
1. TV
2. Mobile
3. Kids
4. Me
5. Carlton Football Club crap
6. Booze
7. Irreplaceable mementos, pictures, birth certificates etc.
#1Hubby's Emergency Evacuation Plan Post-fancy pants ironing board cover:
1. TV
2. Mobile
3. Kids
4. Ironing board cover
5. Me - assuming he can leave his ironing board for long enough to rush into the burning building and save me unconscious, singed self. I will be found between the laptop and the coffee machine. I will have succumbed to smoke inhalation while trying to decide between which of those devices to save first.
FFS.
We need a new fridge. I'm buying it, just to be safe. FFS.
Don't even bother trying to choose.
I've already chosen a far superior 'household appliance' of my own to
replace you. Mine cooks gourmet meals while entertaining me with his
witty repartee.
