Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Love, Arctic Style

I love my husband. I love his laugh, his smile and his beautiful curly locks of hair that my son, Bug, inherited from him. I love my husband's height, and having to stretch up on my tippy toes to wrap my arms around his neck to kiss him. I love his sensitive ways with the children and how he plays with them, when my own dad never played with us. Nothing warms my heart more than to hear my children's shrieks of terror as their father chases them around pretending to be the boogey monster.

There is very little I don't love about my husband. After almost ten years of marriage and fourteen years of romance, he can still make my freakishly long monkey-toes curl like no other.

If I'm giving you the mistaken impression that this post is a loving tribute to my husband, I apologize. Because right now, I want to kick his very cute, muscular ass. Which, by the way, I haven't seen in three weeks but that is a post in it's own....

I had a rough sleep last night. Nope, I wasn't dreaming of dead children, or lusting after sexy movie stars. In fact, I don't recall dreaming at all. Dreaming would imply sleeping, which I did very little of. Because my darling dog (please note the fact I am not referring to him as the World's Greatest Dog, Ever, in this post) kept nosing me off my pillow in an effort to share my body heat.

Normally, I don't mind this. I miss my husband's fondness for dutch ovens, his smelly arm pits and that gaping dip in the mattress, so I use my dog as a poor substitute to curl up with in the dark hours of the night. I can't tell you how many times I have woken up to elbow my husband, and tell him to stop snoring, only to realize it is the damn dog.

(Oddly enough, there is comfort in a hairy, snoring body beside me in bed. Apparently, it doesn't matter who, or what species it is, along as it emanates body odour, I'm a happy girl.)

I digress. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, due to my dog trying to steal my heat. I should have realized something was up when I woke up thinking I was in some cheesy motel bed, the type you plunk in 25 cents and it vibrates for three minutes. Poor Nixon, couldn't stop shivering. But I didn't notice anything particularly off, as I was cuddled under the comforter.

But when I bellowed at my children (because I'm classy like that) to get their asses out of bed rise and shine, my daughter wandered into my bedroom wearing her freaking snow suit. Apparently, Nixon wasn't the only one who spent the night shivering.

Turns out, we ran out of fuel to heat our home over the course of the night. When I checked the temperature inside my house it was a balmy six degrees. That's 42 degrees to you Yanks. It was is a tad chilly to say the least. (A f*%king under statement as I sit here and shiver. Do you have any idea how hard it is to type when your fingers are slowly turning blue? And how am I going to get all the snot that is dripping from my very red nose out of my keyboard?)

I did what any good mother would do. I told them to suck it up, shut up and put on some mittens. And to get me the damn phone, I had to call their father.

This would be the part of the post where my love for my husband shines through. As his wife and doting children sit in our igloo, huddling together trying to keep warm, my husband was sitting in a cozy little hotel restaurant being served by an 18 year old lady who is apparently all that and then some if you know what I mean. He was eating his breakfast/supper after coming off his twelve hour night shift while making googly eyes at the pretty waitress. Trying to charm her with his good looks and witty remarks into getting free raisin toast. As I sit here freezing my arse off.

Apparently, I interrupted his mojo. Interfered with getting his free toast. Excuuuse me. Let me just turn blue, so you can get sweet talk your way into free bread.

After explaining the situation to my husband, his response?

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Hmmm, let me think.


Seems fairly self explanatory to me. The way I figure it, this is not my fault. Sure, my husband has only been home for a handful of days during the past few months. And yes, he's busting his ass so that I may live the life of an Arctic princess, doing nothing but eat bonbons and blog all day. I understand that he is doing the best he can within the limitations he faces.

But to my reckoning, if he can come home every few weeks for a booty call, why can't he check the fuel levels while he's home, to make sure his precious vagina wife stays warm? Not to mention, providing a simple necessity for his children, like, say, HEAT.

I can't be responsible for every damn thing around here. I have to draw the line in the snow somewhere.

I'm trying to see the bright side to this. He's still cute, attentive and tall. He IS on his way home to remedy the problem. (Although, his idea of keeping warm primarily involves rubbing his stick against me.) And in the seven years we have lived out here, this has never happened before. Because he was HOME. It's not like I'm married to Mr. Chicky, who makes it a habit of freezing his wife and baby chick out of their abode.

Things could be worse. It could be blizzarding out and well below freezing. Nope, the sun is shining and we are expecting above average temperatures today. In a few hours, it will be warmer outside my house than inside it.

My husband could be at that hotel restaurant with the 18 year old bimbo, who could decide she wants a sugar daddy, and instead of giving him free raisin toast, could offer up some free sugar if you know what I mean. Instead, he is probably speeding like a madman, on his way home, to once more save the day and enshrine himself in the glory that is being a good husband.

And the brightest side to all of this: My boobs are awfully perky right now.

Maybe I will let the husband use his stick to keep me warm. It's the only time I'm going to resemble a perky 18 year old. Might as well take advantage of it.


Blogger MamaMichelsBabies said...

I um.. am trying really hard not to laugh... right now.... I will later... when your not looking.

Poor Boo.. leavin an 18 year old youngin for a ticked off wife. Now that's love hehe.

9:27 a.m.  
Blogger MamaMichelsBabies said...

Oh and he'd better be coming home with somethg other then fuel that comes from the ground... say a nice diamond or something else that sparkles more then the dang ice forming from your snot.

9:28 a.m.  
Blogger metro mama said...

You're funny. Like I told Mrs. Chicky--make him PAY!

9:44 a.m.  
Blogger Mrs. Chicky said...

Something tells me that your husband is better at sucking up than my husband. Mostly because my husband BLOWS DONKEY BALLS at sucking up.

But I digress. (Can one digress if one hasn't even started making a point?)

I do hope your heat is fixed soon. I know how bad it can be, 'cause I've been there. Twice. In the meatime, dogs make wonderful foot or lap warmers.

10:46 a.m.  
Blogger sillychick said...

can't say this city girl ever ran out of fuel, but I did come home last week to no water.

I called my husband, who was at a "work" function (a hockey game) and screamed, "DID YOU PAY THE FUCKING WATER BILL?" Seeing as how he had already had a few beers, he didn't really care about it.

Turns out it was a water company thing...but I didn't apologize cuz I'm a bitch like that.

11:12 a.m.  
Blogger carrie said...

If ever there was a silver lining to freezing your arse found it!!!

Can't wait to see what you write tomorrow after the thaw!


11:55 a.m.  
Anonymous daisydee said...

See, there is alway a bright side to everything.... ha ha

12:16 p.m.  
Blogger Wendy said...

I wish I could share in your pain, but nope. It is a wonderful 70 degrees down here in the Deep South. Dont know what that is in your language.

However, if you would like to send your dear Boo to hell as puinshment. You may send him down here in the middle of summer. I am sure we can find some gators for him to wrastle or simply just make him sit outisde in the stiffling heat watching us drink lemonade in the incredibly cool house.

Dont worry me and the kids will point and laugh at him. Besides there is that big Pitbull next door that looks very hungry. That should keep him on his toes.

Hope you are toasty real soon.

12:40 p.m.  
Anonymous mamatulip said...

Something tells me he's gonna be in the doghouse for a while...

1:19 p.m.  
Blogger Rose said...

I have a hunch that you never checked the fuel levels so you would have a reason to guilty him into coming home for a few hours!
Enjoy having him home for a few hours!

2:33 p.m.  
Anonymous TSM said...

In *this* house, I would have to demand the stick-warming as payment for making me sit in a cold house (because it's not offered quite as freely as it is in other households)!

Definately get something out of it. Maybe some housework? Laundry? Whatever floats yer boat.

3:13 p.m.  
Blogger Bon said...

you're not only fierce as all hell but funny when you're mad too.

remind me not to cross you - you'd win any argument and i'd just be giggling in the corner. in spite of myself.

5:59 p.m.  
Anonymous the new girl said...

Glad to see that your husband has his priorties straight.

Keeping the precious vagina warm is way, way more important than free toast...raisins or no.

7:29 p.m.  
Blogger Gunfighter said...

An interesting post for my first visit... but I like it.



6:14 a.m.  
Anonymous Bennie said...

Hi t.! Just popping in to say it'll be 70+ degrees today here in South Carolina. We might even need to turn on the air-conditioning. So what's up with you?

6:48 a.m.  
Blogger Kristen said...

My house is usually about 50 at night- by my fiance's choice! I want to KILL him every time he turns the air on after I JUST TURNED IT OFF!!!

9:00 a.m.  
Blogger Kelly said...

Is it cold in here, or are you just happy to see me?

(Ahhh, I hope you get some warmth soon, either with some real heat or some stick-rubbing...)

9:21 a.m.  
Blogger Gette said...

I hate running out of propane. It usually happens at stupid times like the evening before Thanksgiving or something. Every time we run out completely, we have to have a valve safety check for an extra $50 or $100, too. Dangit. Perhaps if we paid the propane bill more consistently, they'd put us on "keep fill". Hmmm.

9:33 a.m.  
Blogger ECR said...

My husband would keep the house at 50 degrees (Fahrenheit, sorry) every day if he had his way. Using my feminine wiles, I have convinced him to up the ante to 57. Yup. And he doesn't even offer up his stick to keep me warm.

Hope things warm up, soon.

5:01 p.m.  
Blogger Em said...

LOL...I'm not freezing at your blue fingers or your snot. But you did tell the story in a most humorous manner. Best of luck in the stick-rubbing, heat-generating department!

5:13 p.m.  
Blogger kgirl said...

good god, i get mad if we run out of raisin bran.

6:50 a.m.  

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