So we just moved into our new home last week and have been digging out of the mass of boxes that helped get us here. Mrs. Angrybell believes that a small forest in Brazil died to make all the boxes.
But that is neither here nor there. This morning, as we were preparing for the the parents and grandparents to arrive to look at our new base of operations, I found myself unpacking glasses and putting them on the shelf. Where I found dust.
Not like a little dust, but like an inch thick of dust was each shelf as I was trying to put the glasses and other stuff on the shelf. That was when I said it.
"Hun, where's the swiffer? I need to use it."
She had me repeat the question a few times and has marked it as a day of celebration. I fear for my guy card.
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