It's Friday afternoon and I'm about to let my wife know (because I'm conscientious) that I'm planning on playing golf with my friends Sunday afternoon. I say, "Hey Honey, on Sunday..." and that's when I get stopped dead in my tracks.
She calmly responds, "Before you plan anything, we have breakfast with Leslie and David at 8, Eathan's birthday party at 12, and dinner with my parents at 5. So, what were you saying?"
What? First of all, who's Eathan and when was she going to tell me about all of these plans. It turns out Eathan is a cousin on her side (there's so many...how am I supposed to remember) and she knew about all of the plans for at least two weeks. Geez...nothing like waiting until the last minute to tell someone.
Sound familiar? I've never really understood why she makes plans and waits to tell me. It's like I'm on a need-to-know basis and don't need to know until I decide to schedule a tee time. Needless to say, I put my foot down and had a fun-filled day of golf...yea, right! Breakfast was good, I had plenty of cake at Eathan's party and enjoyed a nice steak with my wife's parents.
Last Friday, however, my wife elevated her game to new heights. In her usual style, she let me know about last minute plans. This time it was a sleepover at my house. My 7 year-old invited a classmate to spend the night at our house. There's nothing greater on a Friday night after a long week than two giggly 7 year-olds screaming and running around the house.
Again, a little advance warning might be nice. The kicker, though, was what she said next. She tells me that she didn't realize that she planned it on the same night that she's going scrapbooking with her friends. Wait a minute! Let me get this straight. She plans a sleepover on the night that I'm most tired. Then, she won't even be there. There is some serious making up to do on her part.
The sleepover, as it turned out, was fine, but I won't let her know that. I think I'll file that one away for a while. I'm sure something will come up that I can cash that one in on.
She calmly responds, "Before you plan anything, we have breakfast with Leslie and David at 8, Eathan's birthday party at 12, and dinner with my parents at 5. So, what were you saying?"
What? First of all, who's Eathan and when was she going to tell me about all of these plans. It turns out Eathan is a cousin on her side (there's so many...how am I supposed to remember) and she knew about all of the plans for at least two weeks. Geez...nothing like waiting until the last minute to tell someone.
Sound familiar? I've never really understood why she makes plans and waits to tell me. It's like I'm on a need-to-know basis and don't need to know until I decide to schedule a tee time. Needless to say, I put my foot down and had a fun-filled day of golf...yea, right! Breakfast was good, I had plenty of cake at Eathan's party and enjoyed a nice steak with my wife's parents.
Last Friday, however, my wife elevated her game to new heights. In her usual style, she let me know about last minute plans. This time it was a sleepover at my house. My 7 year-old invited a classmate to spend the night at our house. There's nothing greater on a Friday night after a long week than two giggly 7 year-olds screaming and running around the house.
Again, a little advance warning might be nice. The kicker, though, was what she said next. She tells me that she didn't realize that she planned it on the same night that she's going scrapbooking with her friends. Wait a minute! Let me get this straight. She plans a sleepover on the night that I'm most tired. Then, she won't even be there. There is some serious making up to do on her part.
The sleepover, as it turned out, was fine, but I won't let her know that. I think I'll file that one away for a while. I'm sure something will come up that I can cash that one in on.