lest you commit husband-a-cide…
Last week I was busy flat ironing may hair while the husband was looking on, and he launches into this long-winded explanation about electrons and how they function and that they revolve around themselves and bump each other and whatever (as you can probably tell my narcolepsy kicked in) and eventually it dawns on me that he is trying to tell me something about my electricity usage.
I immediately start to feel my blood pressure rise and prepare my indignant response that I have not used the fecking flat iron in almost five years and as such I am now allowed to make up for that saved electricity by reserving the right not to look like medusa’s second cousin (good argument-right?), but I digress…I finally cottoned on that he was making a reference to the fact that it is very easy to spot in which rooms of the house I had been as the light is normally on after I leave.
So very sweetly he asked me if I wouldn’t mind doing an electron dance about the house before I get in the car. I find it strangely comforting to think that I am dancing out the door every morning, just me and the electrons getting groovy!