The weathermen get very excited every year during hurricane season. If a hurricane appears to be destined for any part of the Texas coast, we are doomed and will surely be cursed with flood level rains. Never mind that the Texas coast is like huge, and at best my hometown received an inch of rain during each of the last few hurricanes. We are nothing here in Texas if not dramatic.
So naturally, I wasn't expecting to be cleaning up after a natural disaster yesterday evening.
My house was toilet papered. Interiorly, which is totally a word. It was obviously an inside job. And for the record, this was only equivalent to 1/4 of the total toilet paper I cleaned up. I was a little too angry to reach for the camera until after it was nearly cleaned.
But the *bastard* wasn't done.
We had to glue the metal *life saving device* back on so the treadmill would work. Which means I am totally screwed if I ever fall while running. It is almost inevitable that I will be scalped by treadmill. Exercise really is going to kill me.
I worked my deductive reasoning skills honed by years of crime drama TV and came to the conclusion that the bite marks resemble the dog more than the husband. To be sure though, I called his office and confirmed with his secretary that he was in the office all morning.
But how can I be mad at this face?
And also he is currently humping his bed. Fantastic.
I promise we will be back in
