I asked Matt to go buy one of these on his way home from work today, and by the way he reacted you’d think I asked him to go buy me tampons, ex-lax, and wart remover. Honestly, what a pain he can be.
I think his reaction had less to do with the fact that he has to go run an errand than with his knowledge that he will not get to eat any of the cake that will go in it. Tonight I will be making this cake (go ahead, I’ll wait while you read the recipe and drool) since tomorrow is Co-worker’s birthday. Yummmm.
Anyway, in return for agreeing to go get the cake carrier, Matt made me promise to let him play catch tonight with no complaining. Which… argh, there is no way to explain this without making both of us look like complete morons. See, he has this stupid red rubber ball with a Red Sox logo on it that he got for like a buck at Stop and Shop. And while he is watching TV, he likes to throw the ball up in the air and catch it. I mean, I guess that’s fine and all, but I don’t really get the point. He has tried to claim that he is “practicing pitches”, to which I respond, “yes, dear, that will really come in handy for your job in the software industry.”
The thing is, I find the playing catch to be supremely annoying. Especially when it is late, and we have gone upstairs, and he is watching TV and I am reading, and out of nowhere a RUBBER BALL FALLS ON MY HEAD. Because maybe someone is focusing a little too much on his pitching skills and not enough on the catching part of this equation.
So that was the agreement. I get a cake carrier to carry my delicious cake to work in tomorrow and he gets one evening of stupid catch playing without me complaining about it every 5 seconds. I’ve made my bed and now I must lie in it. But if a ball hits me in the head while I am lying in that bed, then all bets are off.