Ten Questions My Husband Will Likely Ask Me Before Noon
I’m lying — I lost count, but I am considering changing my name to Siri
As a child, I didn’t have a clear idea of what I wanted to be when I grew up. After high school, I went to secretarial school. From there it was just a matter of climbing the ladder of success, getting the best, most high-paying job vs. chasing career dreams.
Little did I know that I was grooming myself for what would end up being my life’s purpose: To answer the daily barrage of questions tossed at me like grenades by the person who occupies the right side of our king-sized mattress, my husband.
“Are we out of Agave?,” he asks as I make my way to the coffee pot.
“Not that I know of,” I say as I wipe the crispy pieces of sleep encrusted to my lashes.
“Did you notice Dozer has been scratching himself a lot lately? Is it time for Frontline? When did you do it last? Do you remember? Have the cats had their’s too? Is it time to do it again? What’s it last, like a month or something? Or, wait. Didn’t you change Dozer’s to that new three-month formula. Maybe it’s not working. Are the cats still on the same stuff?”
I’m only counting that as one question for sanity’s sake, but I basically answer them all with a…
