Those 4 little words everyone longs to say.

Last night, Matt and I both got home late. Him, because he was playing golf (the company he works for, despite having nothing to do with golf, is located on a golf course, and they can play on Monday nights for $8.) Me, because of the presentation that is slowly sucking the life out of me. It is currently 47 (47!) pages long and will be presented tomorrow morning at 8:30am and I might be freaking out a little bit. But that is not the point of this post.

The point is that when we both got home last night, Matt spoke these words to me:

You know how it’s my birthday tomorrow? And you can’t be mad at me on my birthday? And since it’s the day before my birthday, you can’t be mad at me today either?

This is the point at which scenarios ranging from illegitimate children to fires, flood, and famine begin flashing through my head. And so I asked through gritted teeth why he would feel the need to remind me of the fact that I could not get mad at him.

Well, uh, you know how you’ve been telling me for 6 weeks (6! Weeks!) that I need to get my brakes looked at?

(At this point I had to seriously WILL myself not to shoot laser beams out of my eyes. But I may have let a little smoke come out of my ears.)

Yeah, uh, I don’t think I can drive my car until I do something about that. It seems to be having an inability to, uh, stop.

Well, yeah, the ability to stop might be a nice feature for a car to have. Being the nice girlfriend that I am, I immediately scheduled a car appointment for him for Wednesday (the earliest I could get). Today he dropped me off at work and then took my car (if he hurts my baby he will PAY, and I don’t mean money) for the day.

I MAY have reminded him a few times that he should probably remember how nice I was the next time he found himself in a flower shop (or a jewelry store). But every time I tried to say those 4 little words that I wanted to say so badly, he would stop me and remind me that it was his ‘birthday Monday.’ Of all the lousy timing!

However, last night as he was falling asleep, I did lean over and whisper:

I told you so.


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Filed under My Sweet Babboo

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