I love my husband but OH MY GOD, he needs to stop "cleaning"!
Ok. So he had a bad day, came home, had a few beers, watched his team lose on TV, and, while I was STILL AT WORK, started "cleaning." And I use the term "cleaning" in the full blog of unnecessary quotation marks sense.
For instance, he decided to clean my bathroom (I have a downstairs bathroom w/shower off our laundry room that is mine-all my girly stuff is there, and that's where I undress when I'm particularly...aromatic when I come home after work etc.) our kitchen, and the fridge. Anyway-he decided to randomly throw things away, mop the floor, do ??? something else, and here's hoping there was profit in it.
Some of the things he threw away (I'm sure there are more, we also use that bathroom for storage since it's so large, these are just the things I found while looking for the iPod)
--box of Super absorbent Tampax (apparently, I only have "lite" days now. I WISH! lol)
--his cat's insulin (um, hello YOU ARE AN MD. Granted, I give the insulin most of the time and I'm sorely tempted to believe there is some truth to the old adage about surgeons:'Strong as a bull and twice as smart' but really, who throws away the insulin and not the can't remember how long it's been in the fridge Chinese takeout?)
--case of Cherry Pepsi
--my Dove for Men citrus bodywash (only thing that helps cut the three day old rotten afterbirth smell that occasionally accompanies me home)
--my NEW Spy Optics sunglasses with the yellow lenses I use instead of safety glasses when I'm working
--a pair of black Wrangler show jeans (but not the holey schooling breeches they were underneath in the hamper)
Does anyone else have a somewhat sporadic less than helpful helper?