By The Wiz
Around 9:30 p.m. my husband decides it’s a good time to workout. Hey, you do what you have to do.
“Want to work out with me?”
“No. I can’t work out this late. I’ll go hypo all night.” (Diabetes as excuse. Nicely played.)
“Can you find the remote for the ceiling fan when that round is done?”
(staring intently at my phone) ”Sure”.
After my round is done, I totally forget, and like a good wife, leave the room to get some water. My sugars were a little high, and I was thirsty. Then I remember like an ACTUAL good wife, and so I go back in to get the ceiling fan going for him.
The outside door was open. (We live in Arizona. It’s acceptable to open doors in January.)
He’s there doing his jumping jacks and all the other whatchadoos and stuff.
“A bird flew in. It’s either in the corner or Suzy is eating it.” (he continues his squats and pushups)
“What? There’s a dead bird under here?”
“Not (puff) sure. Check the (puff) corner.”
Suzy is one of our dogs. I don’t want to get too graphic about what was under the bed, but let’s just say the score was easily Bird: 0. Dog: 1.
Hello. I’m cute and cuddly, and apparently I like to kill things.
And still, he’s working out.
I feel I have to make a statement.
“I AM NOT DEALING WITH A BIRD CARCASS UNDER THE BED.”
And so he stops, and we remove the mattress, box spring, maneuver the bed, and proceed to clean everything up that was under the bed.
After, of course, luring the dogs outside. (She won’t come out! Get a piece of meat! She’s EATING a piece of meat! Ew!)
I feel slightly responsible. After all, if I’d just found the remote sooner, the ceiling fan would have been on, and the door would have stayed closed. The remote did end up being on the floor right by where hubs was working out, but that’s not really the point, now, is it?
Thanks for listening. And don’t forget, there’s still time to win the ipad mini. To quote my cousin Alison, if you win, you can name the mini Cooper.