It's Good to Have him Home
I do believe he is still waiting.
Because, really, dear internet, what is more romantic than having a stinky, unshaven, horny man dump his weeks of dirty laundry at your feet (and which he expects you to immediately wash) then fall into bed, unshowered, while scratching his nuts and farting into your clean girly sheets? Really, I am getting a little hot for the hubs as I type this.
Upon Boo's return home, I discovered a new rivalry has developed in my house. Between my dog and my man. It has blossomed into a battle of manly wills. A tug of war over my affection. The problem is they both want to sit with me on the couch. With out being slobbered on, chewed on, licked, or (from Nixon's point of view) removed from the couch all together. I take that back. Boo would love it if I slobbered on, chewed on, or licked any part of him. He just isn't so fond of my pooch doing the same.
Apparently, my darling hubs has some issues with my puppy parenting. Like the fact that Nixon believes he belongs on the couch. Like the fact that Nixon has developed a taste for french fries and mint chocolate chip icecream. Like the fact that Nixon refuses to have his ass tickled by grass so, therefore poops inside the house. Boo thinks Nixon is treated too much like my baby instead of my dog. Nixon thinks my hubs has had a stick shoved up a crevasse and needs it removed. (Oh, wait, that may be me..)
I have reminded him that if he never left me to my own devices to chase the almighty dollar, and perhaps offered up some puppy training guidance, maybe my baby wouldn't believe he really is presidential and would shit outside like a normal dog.
And then I continued to shop for hats for Nixon, (look out Wonderbaby) while holding up an infant diaper, sized one. You should have seen my darling hub's face when I casually mentioned the diaper would perfectly fit Nixon's doggy bottom.
Welcome back, Boo.
I've missed toying with you.