Monday Morning Zombie

I try to be a good wife on the days that end with “Y”.  This morning, like most mornings, I got up to cook The Beard breakfast and assemble his lunch at 5:15am.  This is truly an act of love since I don’t technically work during the summer and have no other reason to be up while it’s still dark out.

More often than not, my husband tell’s me to go back to bed, because he’s a big boy and there’s no reason for me to be up.  It’s always nice to hear is genuine consideration, although sometimes I think it’s as much for him as it is for me.  Remember, my cooking skills aren’t the greatest, let alone when I’m in a zombie like state at 5am!

The Beard has a strong disdain for zombies. He says the Zombie Apocalypse is coming.  He also says he will have no trouble defending himself and shooting me if I turn into a zombie.  That’s true love right there.

This morning, this zombie should have listened to his advice and gone back to bed.  

We have the same breakfast every morning during the week (and usually the weekends too): eggs over medium and slices of bacon.  The whole time I was cooking I smelled a strong perfume type smell.  I had no idea where it was coming from and finally decided it must be the skillet.  I had taken it out of the dishwasher and assumed that it was was the detergent.

I know that’s kinda dumb, but at 5am, I’m not Sherlock Holmes and it was the best I could come up with.  

I apologized to The Beard and told him I hoped his eggs didn’t taste like soap.  Not surprised by this statement, he went ahead and tasted the eggs but said they were fine.  We were both still perplexed, but he had to get to work and I was headed back to bed.

The Lordling beckoned me about 6:15 but was easily convinced to hit the couch with me for another hour until The Princess demanded we wake at 7:15.  As I took a deep breathe in order to give my sigh of “I guess it’s time to officially start the day,” I inhaled what seemed like the perfume of an extremely old woman who was proud of her newly purchased $2.99 bottle of perfume. Gag me.  It was awful!

Upon entering the kitchen, I glanced at the stove.  Now that it was light in the house, I discovered Exhibit A:

Exhibit A

As soon as I saw it I knew.  When I came back from the fridge to put the butter in the skillet this morning, I didn’t understand why it wasn’t melting and had said to myself, “I know I turned that burner on!”  Shaking my head, I proceeded to turn the front burner on and cook breakfast.  Apparently the BACK BURNER that I had ACTUALLY turned on PREVIOUSLY was not sufficient!

So after being left on for TWO HOURS, it’s no wonder the house smelled like a french whorehouse!

I should really come with a label:

I called The Beard to inform him that the mystery was solved, but mostly to get his advice on cleaning up the aftermath so that I didn’t do anything even more ridiculous.  During our conversation he requested that I message him a pic once we hung up.

Me:  *image of the destruction*

The Beard:  Just as I imagined.  We need to stop keeping stuff on the stove.

Me:  Sorry.

The Beard:  No problem.  We’ll learn and adapt.  This best hit your blog.

Me:  I don’t really have much to say about it.

The Beard:  I think it mostly goes without saying.

Me:  On another note, I wish I could get this $#&*!@# smell of “cotton blanket” out of my nostrils and this house!  I don’t even LIKE that candle!

The Beard:   See, the punishment fits the crime.

Sometimes I wish I really were a zombie.

~Ashley~

P.S.  Just in case there IS a zombie apocalypse…don’t say I didn’t try to prepare you.

Apparently He And I Have Different Goals

You Are 17% Likely To…How DUMB Are Online Quizzes Anyway?

Facebook quizzes.  They’re everywhere!  “Which Avengers Character Are You?”  “How Bro Are You, Bro?”  “How Well Do You Know The Golden Girls?”  The list goes on and on, as I’m sure you are well aware.  I certainly don’t seek them out on my own, but I must admit, when they come across my newsfeed, I tend to become intrigued.

I mean really, there’s not a small part of you that hopes your results for the “Which Big Bang Theory Character Are You?” quiz tell you you’re Sheldon?  Then once revealed, you’re secretly disappointed when you find out you’re Raj?  That’s what I thought.  

Well today was no different when this morning the “How Bitchy Are You?” quiz found its way into my newsfeed.  I know what you’re thinking.  Well, you’re probably thinking lots of things, ESPECIALLY if you know me very well.  And to you I say, “shut it” because I will stand by my belief that I’m often in the right and just get a bad rap.  😉

Anyway, of course I took it!  And like most things, I shared my results with The Beard a little later in the morning as we were conversing, via What’s App.

Me:  I took a quiz today to find out how bitchy I am.  What’s your guess?

The Beard:  What’s the scale?

Me:  %

The Beard:  Meaning 100 is totally bitchy?

Me:  Yes.

The Beard:  Just today, or overall?

Me:  Overall.  My goodness.

The Beard:  And the scale only goes to 100?

Me:  Careful.

The Beard: How have the kids been today?  Because that could taint your score.

Me:  Perfect.

The Beard:  61%.

Me:  Are you being nice?

The Beard:  No.  What did you score?

Me:  79%.  Pretty bitchy but sometimes that’s necessary to get things done, it said.

The Beard:  Lol.  I’m sure there are many bartenders and waitresses who would agree with that score.

Me:  Right.  New subject.

Fast forward 10 hours.  The rest of the family were finishing dinner and I was starting to load the dishwasher.

FYI, by dishwasher I mean “a machine for washing dishes automatically,” not ME as The Beard so often likes to define it.  

Anyway, The Lordling decided he wanted to finish eating standing up in his chair and as is usually the case, bobbled backward but caught himself.

The Beard:  One of these days you’re gonna fall and Daddy’s gonna laugh at you.

The Princess:  Looking straight at The Beard.  Mommy will laugh at YOU.  Giggle.

The Beard:  21% of Mommy thinks Daddy’s funny.

I immediately flip my head around and The Beard and I lock eyes.  He grins and I give him my “Really?” stare.

Looks like I don’t need to take the “How Awesome Is Your Husband” quiz after all.

~Ashley~

P.S.  The Beard is now referring to my “Really?” stare as the “79%” stare.  It never ends people.  Never.  Ends.

Why I Love The Beard: Reason # 965

Nothing says ‘MERICA, like a man with a beard.

This guy.  

He’s a regular Abe Lincoln meets Don Juan I tell ya.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I mean, for many women, it’s like a sighting of Halley’s Comet to hear their mate spew unsolicited musings explaining how they love them.

Fortunately, that’s not the case for this girl.

It’s a rare occasion if The Beard simply stops at “I love you.”  Seriously, the amount of creative phrasing that comes out of his mouth is ridiculous and never ceases to be humorous.  However, sometimes I act as though it’s not humorous, but it is.  I have to keep his head in check.  😉

Here’s the latest.

Yesterday afternoon The Beard got to come home early from work, due to it being 4th of July week.  I was pleasantly surprised, as he is in the middle of a big project and him being home early  is quite uncommon.

After his arrival (he brought us lunch too) I went over, got on my tip toes and threw my arms around his neck.

Me:  I love you.

In his best super sweet, romantic hero, I’m serious yet totally mocking you at the same time voice, he says…

The Beard:  *sigh* Oh, I love YOU.  It’s like, you’re gold dubloons and I’m a Spaniard.

Look out Hallmark.

~Ashley~

P.S.  I had to google “dubloons.”