<=== W. Stands for Winner. And I’m a real one.
In fact, after you read about my winningest moments, I’m pretty sure you will be so jealous that you aren’t me, that you may stop reading this blog.
I’m prepared for that. It’s a risk I take in sharing.
Winning moment #1 – After a few glasses of wine at Fire & Wine night last week, the dishes and trash from our delicious brined chicken legs and mushroom risotto just didn’t seem all that important to clean up. Mr. Quirky (God love him – a statement I will make so often during this post, we should abbreviate it. GLH. ) removed food debris and stacked dishes for me .
The next morning as I was getting out of the shower, I heard an odd crunching noise. Thinking it could just be Gertie pacing around the bed deciding if she should jump in, I went into the bedroom. Gertie?
From downstairs, I heard her familiar collar jingle. Gertie is never downstairs in the morning alone. That was not a good sign.
She came running upstairs, after hearing my call.
Crunching on the remains of a chicken leg bone.
It was left in easy reach of doggy’s nose.
I went hysterical. Chicken bones can splinter and kill dogs.
Mr. Quirky woke up and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll take her to my parents’ for the day. My mom can keep an eye on her.” (GLH.)
(Update: she is fine. She has had some, um, interesting poops, but it seems the chicken bone did not do any damage.)
Winning Moment #2
I was a little behind on the laundry.
And I had to rewash a load I left in the washer for a few too many days. (Stank.)
Mr. Quirky wanted to know if there were any clean socks in the house.*
The next day, he asked again.
Uh…… (Followed by some excuses as to why I hadn’t done laundry.)
The third day he asked again because you know, he really didn’t want to wear another dirty pair of socks again.
*Note- Mr. Q is happy to do laundry, but I insist because I’m a girl and I have many items of clothing that I don’t dry. It’s way too complicated to keep Mr. Q up-to-date on which items those are. So I do laundry in our household. Or rather, I don’t do laundry. I remain in a constant state of catch up on laundry in our household.
Winning moment #3
I farted at a party.
And not just an SBD fart I could walk away from.
A loud, while I was talking, there was no denying it was me fart.
I’m glad my friends like me so much.
Winning moment #4,5 &6 –
Last night, I left my cell phone at DD Girl’s boyfriend’s house. We had been there farting and celebrating his birthday with friends. (Ok, I was farting. See Winning moment #3.)
I discovered this when I went to look for my phone knowing Mr. Quirky had gone to Chipotle to pick up some lunch (GLH). I knew he might have questions about my very picky order. He’s pretty fantastic about delivering my picky food orders (GLH). But it was gone.
I went into a tailspin of panic. Where was it? When had I last seen it? Did my huge purse eat it? I dumped the contents of my purse out. No phone.
Meanwhile, sure enough, Mr. Quirky was trying to call me. (Did I want chicken or the veggies in my bowl?)
I greeted him at the back door.
“My phone is missing.” “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
We said these things at the same time. Then he searched my purse (“it never hurts to look again,” he told me) my car and our house. (GLH)
Luckily, a text to DD Girl from Mr. Quirky’s phone located my phone and all was well.
Thank goodness because I couldn’t imagine life without my precious i-phone.
“Do I have any clean socks yet?” Mr. Quirky asked as we were getting ready to run a few errands later on.
“Do you really need to wear socks to Game Stop and ice cream?” (I had stopped making excuses and just started redirecting blame.)
“I guess not,” he sulked. (GLH)
After a post-ice cream nap, I decided I should finally do some laundry. Mr. Quirky was in the shower, and I noticed his shorts were on the floor. Remembering that he was sweating pretty bad following the wiffle ball game at the farting birthday party last night, I thought he might appreciate me washing his shorts.
So, I threw them in my basket and headed downstairs.
It dawned on me briefly that turning on the washer might impact his shower, but I figured he was close to being done. (I’m awfully considerate, aren’t I?)
“Hey, did you take those shorts on the floor?” he asked when he got out of the shower.
“Did you get the receipts out of the pocket?”
And a few seconds later.
“Was my phone in the pocket?!!!!”
Clunk. (That was the sound of my heart hitting the floor.)
Sure enough, the phone was taking a spin in the machine.
There were many tears shed.
Mr. Quirky told me not to cry. It was just a phone. (GLH)
I cried some more.
And then I felt so guilty that I finished all the laundry and even haphazardly folded his underwear, socks and shirts on top of his dresser.
Because nothing says “honey, I’m sorry I washed your i-phone” like a pile of haphazardly folded undies.
Especially when you post a picture of it on your blog.