Last night, after doing this dishes (that’s right… I do the dishes. I’m manly, gorgeous, AND good with my hands!), Friz sauntered over, and the following conversation took place.
Friz: Why aren’t all of the glasses in the drainboard?
Friz: You put some of the glasses on the counter, and not in the drain board to let them dry.
Me: What difference does it make?
Friz: It makes a difference to ME. I prefer them to all be in the drain board.
Me: Have you taken a look at all the glasses and plates that I DO have in the drain board?
Friz: Yeah, so?
Me: Yeah, so? There is NO room for the extra glasses, so I’m letting them dry on the counter.
Friz: What do you mean, there’s no room. Of course there’s room!
Me: No there’s not. Where do you see any room to put these glasses?
Friz: Just rest them on top of the other glasses.
Me: You can’t do that… they’ll fall and break.
Friz: No, they won’t.
Me: Yes, they will.
Friz: No, they won’t. Believe me… I do the dishes every damn day, and I stack the glasses every damn day, and the glasses are just fine.
Me: I don’t know WHAT the Hell you do every damn day, but THIS damn day, there is too much shit in the drain board, and if I try to rest those extra glasses on top, they are going to break.
Friz: They WOULD break, if YOU did it. But I do this all the time…. Just move over and let ME do it. I don’t want glasses getting my counter all wet.
Me: That is a very stupid plan.
Friz: You don’t know what you are talking about…. Really. Here, let me show you…..
And with that, Friz bumped me to the side, and began to stack the offending glasses on top of the others.
It really DID look like an expert job. I could tell that she in fact DOES do this all the time by the expert way that she stacked glass after glass……
…. The near perfect form she used as each item got perfectly perched upon another…….
In fact, it was SO perfect, that it took a WHOLE TEN SECONDS for one of the glasses to begin to slide off the one it was sitting on, tip over, and do a series of fucking end-over-end somersaults down the pile of dishes, off the counter, where it admittedly made a near PERFECT explosion of glass shards as it came crashing down onto our kitchen floor.
We both stood there for a few seconds, neither one of us saying a word. Inside, I was feeling quite happy with myself.
I was about to either offer up an encouraging word of support, or throw out a really fucking sarcastic comment about what a good job she did, when she looked up at me and said…..
“Fuck you. And don’t say a DAMN word. And fuck you.”
To her credit, it really CAN’T be easy living with someone as perfectly awesome as myself.