I got home from work the other day and my dear husband sat there on the couch with an expectant look on his face. He has been off this week and ALL UP IN MY GRILL 24/7, but that is a whole other blog post. As we chitchatted and I rushed around dumping my computer, purse, lunch bag, changing my clothes, etc. he continued to just look at me. Finally he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Notice anything different?", he says. I look around. "Nope." He gets this horrified, hurt look on his face and says, "I cleaned the toilets! Mine and yours! And I vacuumed the front room!" Ladies, I hadn't even GONE INTO THE BATHROOM (and I don't clean his bathroom. See here.). Here this man sat laid across the couch with a Diet Coke in one hand and the remote in the other as I (DEEP BREATH): changed my clothes, fed the dog, started a load of laundry, straightened the front room, started pulling out the stuff for dinner, and washed the dishes and he was HURT because I didn't notice the toilets? AND he wants to know what is for dinner? DEEP BREATH. This is also the same man that can't pour a drink without dripping it all over the counter, thinks his bathroom is the dumping ground for all thing smelly, believes our very small table is meant to be his dresser, and leaves dirty wine glasses laying around. DEEP BREATH. I very sweetly thanked him, kissed him and told him it helped a lot. Then I continued about the tasks of keeping our lives running.