Andrea: There are pants on the floor.
Paul: It was the cat.
Andrea: Except for the cat doesn't wear clothes.
Paul: Not when you're home......
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
the beautiful logic of husbands
Hey, guys.
Long time no blog.
I swear I have a really good reason.
Well, maybe not.
It's just that I started at Columbia last month, and I've been so busy buying tweed and going to protests and writing really long papers about things that I in no way understand that I kind of slipped on this whole blogging thing.
Everything is different now, though. For reals. Seriously. I, Andrea Boerem, solemnly promise to no longer neglect my blog no matter how much I might need tweed. (mental note: need for tweed. Work this into a conversation somehow.)
I actually should be doing homework right now, but my brain was overheating and also guess what happened this morning:
So, my sister got into town this morning, and since I'd like my sister to think that I'm a reasonably clean person, I took it upon myself last night to thoroughly clean our apartment. And Paul helped.
Paul knows how stressed out I can get about cleanliness when people come over. I think it's because while I have learned how to be a clean person, I am not naturally a clean person. I'm kind of like an addict, a mess junky living one day to the next just hoping I don't wake up in the middle of a pile of Ben and Jerry's containers.
So, last night when I was buzzing from room to room shouting things like WE SHOULD REALLY CALL THE SUPER ABOUT THE CRUMBLING WALL IN OUR CLOSET and I'M JUST GOING TO PAINT THE WINDOWSILL REALLY FAST, Paul sweetly ignored my panicked rants and did the dishes. He knows how I hate a dirty sink.
Which is why when Miriam got in this morning and I offered her a bowl of cereal, I was rather amused to find, sitting in the refrigerator in front of the milk carton, an empty (but dirty) Tupperware container.
I pulled it out. Paul finished the pork, I said. And he stuck the container back in the fridge. Nice one, Paul. And Miriam and I shared a laugh. Oh, husbands. And then I realized: Paul stuck it back in the fridge because he knew how mad I'd be to see a dirty dish sitting in the sink.
And I was so touched by his thoughtful gesture that the fact he stuck a dirty food receptacle in our refrigerator was in no way annoying.
When Paul woke up, I teased him. You couldn't wash a dish, I asked.
Well, I was tired, Paul said. It's just I knew how mad you'd be if you saw it in the sink.
The logic of husbands. I kind of love it.
Long time no blog.
I swear I have a really good reason.
Well, maybe not.
It's just that I started at Columbia last month, and I've been so busy buying tweed and going to protests and writing really long papers about things that I in no way understand that I kind of slipped on this whole blogging thing.
Everything is different now, though. For reals. Seriously. I, Andrea Boerem, solemnly promise to no longer neglect my blog no matter how much I might need tweed. (mental note: need for tweed. Work this into a conversation somehow.)
I actually should be doing homework right now, but my brain was overheating and also guess what happened this morning:
So, my sister got into town this morning, and since I'd like my sister to think that I'm a reasonably clean person, I took it upon myself last night to thoroughly clean our apartment. And Paul helped.
Paul knows how stressed out I can get about cleanliness when people come over. I think it's because while I have learned how to be a clean person, I am not naturally a clean person. I'm kind of like an addict, a mess junky living one day to the next just hoping I don't wake up in the middle of a pile of Ben and Jerry's containers.
So, last night when I was buzzing from room to room shouting things like WE SHOULD REALLY CALL THE SUPER ABOUT THE CRUMBLING WALL IN OUR CLOSET and I'M JUST GOING TO PAINT THE WINDOWSILL REALLY FAST, Paul sweetly ignored my panicked rants and did the dishes. He knows how I hate a dirty sink.
Which is why when Miriam got in this morning and I offered her a bowl of cereal, I was rather amused to find, sitting in the refrigerator in front of the milk carton, an empty (but dirty) Tupperware container.
I pulled it out. Paul finished the pork, I said. And he stuck the container back in the fridge. Nice one, Paul. And Miriam and I shared a laugh. Oh, husbands. And then I realized: Paul stuck it back in the fridge because he knew how mad I'd be to see a dirty dish sitting in the sink.
And I was so touched by his thoughtful gesture that the fact he stuck a dirty food receptacle in our refrigerator was in no way annoying.
When Paul woke up, I teased him. You couldn't wash a dish, I asked.
Well, I was tired, Paul said. It's just I knew how mad you'd be if you saw it in the sink.
The logic of husbands. I kind of love it.
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