SO ....

Danny's got his foot in a splint.  FOR JOY.  This means I not only get serve him, feed him, and scratch his balls, I still have to do the laundry, the cooking, the cleaning and everything else I do while he gets to stay home for the rest of the week RECUPERATING.  He's already threatened to buy a little bell.  It told him to think twice about that or he might discover his gonads tinkling.   

I don't mean to sound harsh, really I don't.  And I don't mind parking in the FAR parking space that makes me walk further to the condo, I really don't.  And I don't mind having to do the heavy duty shopping at Cost Co and lug all the groceries into the house, I really don't.  You know why?  BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT I FUCKEN DO ALL THE TIME ANYWAY.  However, his little requests can get under my skin.  Like this morning as I was leaving for work, I kissed his little head as he lay in bed ... and as I reached the bedroom door he informed me that "his toes itched."