Eric is understandably upset since he feels 1) betrayed by the horrific games the Patriots have had so far, and 2) that somehow he could have affected said games outcomes if only he was there to watch them. So he said to me, "I want you to make sure that she doesn't get my last Pats coaster." And I said, "So put it up somewhere."
"Well, Pixie didn't climb up on the mantel and get your coaster."
"It was under the candle, I think."
"Pixie didn't lift up the candle and remove your coaster, either."
Several weeks ago Eric came to me with a very serious look on his face. "Sweetie," he said, "I have a dilemma for you." One, Eric is 99% never serious. Two, he never uses words like dilemma. I was worried.
"So, the Patriots game is not going to be televised on any of our channels. You have two choices. Either we can get DirecTV season ticket, or I can fly back to Boston to go to the game. It's your choice."
I trimmed out the master bath with primer tonight. Just trimmed. No actual painting. I hate HATE trimming, and I hate priming even more. Together, it is the perfect storm of Haley misery. Then I went to the upstairs bathroom and put primer over the gray smudges of paint I left on the ceiling up there. What I don't understand is how I broke a sweat doing this. I like to think it's because it's about 20 degrees hotter closer to the ceiling. What I really think is that I'm becoming very Hoosier-esque in my proportions. Must exercise.
Meanwhile, Eric is eating ice cream with smushed up Oreos in it. And I'm considering some candy.