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September 28, 2009
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So...the smell in the kitchen my baby daddy and I have been blaming one another for is actually the result of a small, eye dropper type leak under the tap. For my part, I have had a bit of a cold for the past few days and didn't really notice it except when standing in certain places, whereas Mr Clean has taken out the rug and washed the floor and finally threatened to go under the sink (a place neither one of us has been since we moved in, I'm sure). So, he notices the leak and the way the paint/wood under the leak is soft and smelly. Fine. He wants to tinker, I take our daughter out to get some lunch and a new jacket. We come back, I am barely through the door and he takes my arm to drag me to observe this "leak" and tell me about turning the knob clockwise to "shut off" the water, blah blah blah. he is appalled that I don't care. I tell him that I have already informed the super, a plumber will come Mon or Tuesday depending, it's really not that big of a deal PUT A BUCKET UNDER IT. We can't DO anything until it gets fixed, so DON'T TOUCH anything that could make it worse in the meantime. Do you think he listens to me?? 10:00 last night he's pacing around and comes into my room to inform me that he's put the bigger bucket under the sink and he's picked up all the "electrics" off the floor (X BOX), and put towels by the sink, towels under the TV stand, it might FLOOD! How will we EVER get through the night? I'm like "I'm sure it will be fine. Unless YOU'VE done something to anger it, it's a tiny little leak." This infuriates him and he thinks that I am so lazy and so ungrateful, and a terrible, unconcerned mother to boot. FINE. I wake up at 3 am and decide maybe I should check the bucket incase it might need to be emptied. There is about a quarter of an inch of water at the bottom of it. AND, although he claims to be the practical, forward thinking person of the house, he has left the screen door to the balcony locked open, so every little gnat, mosquito, spider, whathave you can crawl/fly into the apartment and make some babies under our leaky sink. (Insects just HATE damp, dark poools of water). I close the door, I go back to bed and get up just after six. He gets up just before seven and races into the kitchen to check the bucket pausing only to shoot a dirty look at me since I have my breakfast and am sitting at the computer RELAXED. He brings the bucket out, with an almost disappointed expression because it's not even more than an inch of water in it. I am tempted to comment that "It's a good thing you took the "electrics" off the floor", but I don't. I simply say that "anything could have happened, and it was better safe than sorry." I make nice. To return that favor, he goes back to the kitchen not two minutes later and bellyaches "OH PAIGE!! I KNEW you'd do THIS!" I take a deep breath, roll my eyes and then call back "What? What now?" He informs me that he had put a fresh bag of milk on the top shelf of the fridge and I have just been too stupid to notice and had proceeded to use a bag from the bottom shelf of the fridge to replace the milk. I really am a piece of work, aren't I? So, I just laugh and say that we do, in fact, keep our milk on the bottom shelf of the fridge so, NO, I wouldn't look on the top shelf of the fridge for it. He goes on and ON about how useless I am (MENSA will revoke my membership if they only knew), and finally I repeated myself for him. I told him "Nigel! We keep the milk on the bottom shelf of the fridge ergo I replaced the empty milk container with milk from the bottom shelf of the fridge. Instead of being so fucking horrified, how about changing the fucking milk yourself instead of complaining that I didn't see the fucking bag of milk when you said yourself that you had PREDICTED that I would not see the fucking milk on the top shelf?" Now, it's my foul language that's the problem. I have a foul mouth and am terribly unladylike and frankly, he has NO IDEA why he puts up with me. Do I laugh or cry?
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