New wife fail

This is the face of disgust. Two months in.

Except I keep telling people it’s been three.

All that wedding planning, you’d think I’d get the post-wedding time frame down. But no.

Fact: Mr. Quirky is better at remembering how long we’ve been married.

Additional fact: I forgot his birthday.

Well, truth be told, it wasn’t anywhere near his birthday. I was just talking about his birthday and got the date wrong. (In front of his sister.)

I will never live it down.

Trust me. He won’t let me forget.

Kind of like he won’t let me forget that I have the most wretched dish washer loading skills on the planet.

From Mr. Quirky’s standpoint: 40% of these items do not belong in the dishwasher at all.

20% certainly not on the bottom rack.

And, 10% are just poorly placed.

And then there’s the laundry. Or rather, the dog bed.

This shot may have been staged, but Mr. Quirky found Gertie sleeping here last night.

Because I wouldn’t let her in the bed because she smelled like a camp fire.

And despite threats, I was too lazy to bathe her.

So, she found the next best thing.

I really can’t blame her. Just like I can’t blame Mr. Quirky for being slightly annoyed when he has to wear his boxers inside out because there were no clean undies. I’m just lucky I have an ample supply of granny panties I mean underwear to get me by for a few weeks.

Marriage = awesome!

Editor’s note: No husbands or dogs were completely neglected in the making of this post.

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