Husband Clothes

I don’t know about you, but I get blamed for some ODD things.  Here are a few examples from this week:

1.) Not watching the YouTube videos my husband sends me via Instant Messenger. He sends like 5 of them a day, and then checks up on me to see if I’ve watched them. If I didn’t, he starts with the irritated comments, “Oh, well that’s too bad. That was REALLY funny.” or “Hm. Then when I tell you about the newstory about Russia, don’t start asking a ton of questions–it was all there in the YouTube video.” (Uhhhhh, sure thing.)

2.) Broken lemon tree branch. We have a lemon tree in our yard which was almost dead when we moved in, but I nursed that baby back to health. (Important detail: my husband never sets foot in the yard–including to lay the sod, mow, or water the lawn, all of which I did/do single-handedly and felt/feel very proud of myself for.) However, I never had a lemon tree, so I don’t know when to pick lemons. Well, recently, a fairly large branch got too weighed down by numerous huge lemons that apparently grew too large. And the branch broke off and fell in the yard. This was very sad for me but…hey, learning experience.

Out of the blue, my husband, who couldn’t care less about the yard or plants in it, got soooooo annoyed. “Didn’t you know you needed to pick the lemons? Why didn’t you just go pick them? Now this whole huge branch broke off!” Why he cared about this branch is beyond me. Why HE couldn’t pick the lemons, and this was all my fault, also beyond me. Nevertheless, this WAS TOTALLY my fault.

3.) My husband can’t log into his webhost server, so I must have changed the password. People, I can barely even tell you what a webhost server is. (See, I don’t even think I’m calling it the right thing–is it webhost? Webserver? Or just server???) I  don’t even know what company my husband uses as his webhost server. Nor do I know his password. Not to mention, I really don’t have a lot of extra time to be logging into other people’s webhost server things, as I have like 8 jobs plus a family to care for!!!

YET, he couldn’t log into his server or something yesterday, so he IM’s me: “Did you change my webhost server thing password?” My reaction was, “Hu?” He continues: “Well, I can’t log in. You must have gotten onto the ftp and changed it.” My reaction: “Hu? I don’t know how to get onto your ftp. No. I didn’t change it. I have no idea how to do that.”

He did not believe me. Then he used FEAR to get me to change his password back! He says, “Well, your email is linked to this server, so I guess you won’t be able to use it anymore.” Finally in about 2 hours the server thing got fixed. Thank GOODNESS.

PS. Good deal for techies–lasts until April 30th: Get 10% Cash Back with Paypal on CompUSA.com!

Well, looks like it’s that time again. The grass has grown completely out of control. I keep thinking my husband will mow it (as he promises to do it every weekend), but no. Well, what did I expect…I was the one who single-handedly layed out this grass in the form of sod, after all. By the way, I was nearly lying down on the ground (okay totally lying down) when I snapped this artistic photo. Yes, that’s extreme, but I strongly felt that lying down would provide the best possible view of the length of the grass.

I suppose I should just go ahead and accept it right now: if the lawn is going to be mowed, I will probably be the one doing it…Wonder what would happen if I never mowed it? (This is not rebellion, as it would in no way influence my husband to mow–I’m actually just curious what would happen–like, would it STOP growing at some point?) I might just do that instead of mowing. It’ll be kind of like a research project.

I don’t expect my husband to do much housework. BUT garbage and mowing are his jobs. As you can see, this in no way means that he DOES them. (And, yes, I have told him. Crying, screaming, cursing, asking nicely–none of it matters. One year, we almost get divorced over housework, but that’s a story for another day. I’ve grown weary. It’s much easier just to simply have very low standards.)

PS. I keep hearing about this monkey grass stuff. I think ALL of our grass might be monkey grass. It grows really fast and in big clumps. Does this sound like monkey grass? Does it look like monkey grass? (By the way, the really tall thing in the foreground is just a weed. Also, all of the greenery around the flower garden are weeds.)

*Remember, MOTHER’S DAY is coming up on MAY 11. See ads on the right to places that have GREAT gifts as well as GREAT sales right now.*

We had to make a sudden move for my husband’s job. I thought, let him choose the apartment–it’ll save us hundreds of dollars–even the drive down and back will cost $100 in gas. Sure, let HIM CHOOSE.

So, he chose. Needless to say, there are numerous problems. Window panes I can pull out. Windows with no screens. An oven with a handle that comes off in my hand everytime I open the oven door. A bathroom with peach tiles and a purple towel rack (oh yes, I did write “peach” and “purple” in the same sentence there). The biggest problem with our new apartment was the back yard. It has a tree with all branches sawed off from a crazy guy who lived here before us, dirt blowing around like a desert, and concrete blocks haphazardly lying around. Of course, my husband thought it looked perfectly fine. Take a look–does this look “FINE”?

After about 6 weeks, I couldn’t tolerate the back “yard” anymore. I told my husband that I’m doing this Saturday. I asked only that he clear his schedule so he can drive the sod to our house–not lay it out, not prepare the dirt, just TRANSPORT it. He complains and wants to procrastinate, of course. “Let’s do it next week. Let’s do it tomorrow.” But I was ready for his tricks, and the answer was NO. We’re doing it Saturday. (Or I guess I should say I’M doing it Saturday.)

He, who has never planted anything, had LOTS of freaking annoying advice about how to plant grass. It’s annoying the crap out of me, but whatever. I just totally ignore everything he says on the topic but do manage to avoid saying mean things.

So, Friday I spend literally 6 hours shoveling dirt as hard as concrete to soften it up. Saturday rolls around. He gets the sod from the store, brings it all out to the yard. WOW, I’m really proud of him. Then says he’s going to HELP me. Oh my gosh! But he has to “get something at the store” first.

Three hours later, the sod has turned into crisp pieces of dried grass and crumbly dirt. No joke. I can’t wait any longer because as I know from my research, the sod might die. Then all these hours toiling in the dirt and hot sun would be worthless.

I call my husband: “Thanks for helping me. Where are you?”

Answer: Getting my oil changed. True story. Nevertheless, here is how our yard turned out–ignore the fact that my husband hasn’t mowed it in a long time:

I barely lived through the move. Most things were fine–but after all of my husband’s stunts, otherwise known as “great ideas” during the move, I can barely utter two words without cursing.

So, we are so exited that our new apartment has a yard! By “yard,” I mean big area full of hard dirt and ugly weeds and poorly cemented, crooked bricks. Yes, it is pathetic and does reflect how lowly we truly are, but we are super excited!!!!

I thought we were excited for the same reasons. I’m totally counting the minutes until I can plant grass with my 5 year old son. In school he learned about seeds, and it’s ALL he talks about. “Mom, let’s plant apple seeds.” And “Mom, let’s plant these orange seeds. Mom, let’s buy an avacado and plant the biggest seed in the world.” So, every day for a week, I kept talking about how I couldn’t wait to plant grass.

One evening, my husband calls and says, “You are going to be so happy.” I was so excited–what? Why am I going to be happy? Please TELL ME!!!”

People, he takes us out back, and there lies a huge roll of brand new ASTRO TURF (fake carpet that looks like ugly plastic grass) . AND, it cost $100. I cried for an hour.