The scene: around 6:30pm, I realized Husbandly One was only barely awake, and struggling to stay that way. It is a testament to his exhaustion that, when I suggested, "Go lie down for an hour while I make dinner"? HE WENT.
About fifteen minutes later, there's a knock on the front door. Our dog (not so affectionately nicknamed "BarkBark") went ballistic.
WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF
For the record, I would like to point out that I have never -- and would never-- raised a hand to any animal. But I would also like credit for all the times I wanted to punch the dog in the head and DIDN'T.
Whatever, I raced downstairs to answer the door before the dog woke Husbandly One. Some young man wanting my 24 year old step son. Step Son came up from the basement to receive this caller, and they both went downstairs. And, for whatever reason, proceeded to yell at each other. No, I don't mean they were angry (they were very glad to see each other),I just mean the visitor flopped down in our family room while StepSon retreated to his bedroom. So they had to yell. A lot.
Just when I had reached the end of my tolerance, and was about to head to the basement to tell them what was what, StepSon bounded up the stairs to grab some of our beer. Harumph.
He looked towards the closed bedroom door, then back at me. "Your father is sleeping, can you two keep it down?"
StepSon: "I haven't seen Joey in a year!"
Me: "Fine, just stop yelling, your father is trying to sleep."
StepSon: "But Joey brought his guitar, he came over to JAM."
Me (not proudest moment): "I don't give a shit if he came over to tell you he has accepted Jesus Christ as his personal Saviour. KEEP IT DOWN."
StepSon: "FINE. And hey, when you make dinner? Put me two plates aside."
I have never -- and would never-- raised a hand to a human being in my life. But I WOULD like credit for all the times I wanted to, but didn't.