I have been asking Steve to pick up a new clothes rack. He, for 3 months now, has not done it and refused to do it. Why? In his opinion, we don't need one. I want one! It has become almost comical when we discuss the silly clothes rack. I ask him to get one, he says sometimes that he will when he sees one. Then he doesn't come home with one. The road to our house has at least four shops selling clothes racks, but he has not been able to see them for some reason. I now count the clothes racks as I go down the street.
Why don't I just get it myself? Well, I don't drive and I would have to walk with a stupid clothes rack over my shoulder, looking silly. But since I am use to looking silly I guess I should just go do it. So that is my plan for this afternoon. I will walk down the street and buy myself a clothes rack. I know if I tell Steve that I am actually going out to buy it that he will do it, but I don't want him to buy it now. I want him to walk 10 feet behind me as I go to the store and carry it over my shoulder all the way home. Let him see me suffer and trip as I walk (and I will trip, on purpose). Let him see how sweaty I get. And let him feel stupid on the inside for not just buying the rack himself. Or I will just tell him I am going to the store and I will come back sweaty and with dirt on my pants from where I fell (and I will fall, on purpose) and he will say, "Oh Leslie, I would have gotten it for you." But it will be too late. He will have missed his opportunity to show me that he loves me. And he will feel like a heel. And I will laugh (on the inside).
See how silly the clothes rack has become! It has turned me into this monster. So if I will finally go buy the rack I will kill the monster (after I gloat like a goat of course).
Why don't I just get it myself? Well, I don't drive and I would have to walk with a stupid clothes rack over my shoulder, looking silly. But since I am use to looking silly I guess I should just go do it. So that is my plan for this afternoon. I will walk down the street and buy myself a clothes rack. I know if I tell Steve that I am actually going out to buy it that he will do it, but I don't want him to buy it now. I want him to walk 10 feet behind me as I go to the store and carry it over my shoulder all the way home. Let him see me suffer and trip as I walk (and I will trip, on purpose). Let him see how sweaty I get. And let him feel stupid on the inside for not just buying the rack himself. Or I will just tell him I am going to the store and I will come back sweaty and with dirt on my pants from where I fell (and I will fall, on purpose) and he will say, "Oh Leslie, I would have gotten it for you." But it will be too late. He will have missed his opportunity to show me that he loves me. And he will feel like a heel. And I will laugh (on the inside).
See how silly the clothes rack has become! It has turned me into this monster. So if I will finally go buy the rack I will kill the monster (after I gloat like a goat of course).
1 comment:
Cracking up - brought tears to my eyes.
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