Ways in Which My Husband Makes it Impossible to Compete

Let's get this out of the way in the beginning. Poooooor B.

Okay, now let's make fun of his misery. Ready?

A couple of days ago B was ironing a shirt for a meeting after work. He had a small stepladder in his closet from our wallpaper removal (things are still in a holding pattern as I take forever to pick colors). I guess he had to remove the ladder from his closet in order to get the ironing board out, so he laid it next to his closet door. I didn't see the ladder until later that night when I was getting ready for bed, so when I saw it, I said to myself, "Huh, I wonder what that's doing there? Note to self-- do not bang into it in the middle of the night."

I was all set when I woke up later that night. A few minutes later, B was not. Crash! Expletive, expletive, expletive! Somewhere in all of that I mumbled, "I knew you would do that." Which of course did not make my husband happy and prompted him to ask, "Well if you knew it was there, why didn't you move it?" I told him it was late and I didn't know what it was doing there in the first place and I just reminded myself not to hit it in the middle of the night. Well it turns out, B has a bloody gash on his toe, which he has now broken for the second time in a year. I blame the fact that he has finger toes. He is still blaming other things.

Fast forward to last night. The three of us took a little fall walk around the neighborhood to check out Halloween lights and such. We're merrily walking down the sidewalk. B is having an idyllic moment looking at his cute family (in the dark, mind you) when all of a sudden-- Crash! Ahhh!!!

"Oh my God, I just got hit by a cactus."

There is one house that has a large cactus growing in their backyard. It's pretty tall so it spills over their fence. And since B is so tall and he wasn't watching where he was going, he took a cactus to the forehead. Double ouch.

Now has anyone had the thought that cactus have prickly things on them? Well, of course, they all embedded themselves in B's forehead. When we got home he asked for the scotch tape. His solution to removing the stickers was to stick tape on his forehead ala Biore Pore Cleanser style and rip them out. Wondering how well that worked? Not so well.

So then he had to do it the old fashioned way by taking a pair of tweezers and plucking each one out individually. I offered assistance, but since they were really hard to see, I hurt him anytime I touched his head.

I sent my husband to work with a helmet and a mask today. Lord knows what trouble he could get into with sharp instruments!

Once again, Poooor B. But seriously, the kid's gotta watch where he's going!