I pulled a muscle in my lower back a few days ago. I hate being sick, injured, etc. because I don't get the chance to be sick, injured, etc. When the hubs or the kids are afflicted, they set up residence on the couch, expecting the full nursing treatment and act like they are dying! Me, I get to do all of the same things I do when I'm well, like cook dinner and clean house... generally everything. I dared to spend a couple of hours laying on the heating pad yesterday and you would have thought that I was surrounded by infants! All of a sudden, they couldn't do a thing for themselves and of course the hubs needed ten thousand things done by the day before. God forbid I should ever die.
I think I'm going to have a grumpy day today. I am constantly amazed at how the men in my life can be so clueless. This morning, my husband decided to mow the backyard. Hey, I'm not complaining. It's needed to be done and we have a butt load of family coming over for Christmas. Anyways, I came home from the store and was greeted by the site of numerous smears of dog poo blanketing the yard. He claims he picked it up before he mowed. Either he's completely blind and I need to insist on an eye exam as soon as possible, or he fibbed because he knew I would be pissed! I'm going with option number two ladies and gentlemen. Mind you, one of our dogs is his dog, the one he wanted so bad and swore he would take care of. Is it really so much to ask that the poo be picked up? Am I being unreasonable? Now I'm hoping the dark clouds in the sky send down a little liquid and wash my yard free from its poo. You know what, I think I hear my heating pad calling me!
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