I stayed in the house most of the weekend except for going to work Saturday morning. I guess this thrusted me into a bit of a nesting phase, because Sunday I decided to rearrange and dust the office. I also took on the project of filing a big gray cardboard box of papers that has been on the office floor since we moved here.

The problem was that the office chair and all of the lovely Ikea stools (read: crappy stools) we have in the house don't support my back properly. Theoretically, I should have sorted the papers in bed. When Hannibal proposed this idea, however, the conversation went like this:

Me: I can't keep bending over like this.
Hannibal: Honey, I can move the box into the bed, so you can sort there with as many pillows as you'd like.
Me: No. No.
Hannibal: Why not?
Me: Every time I get to the middle of sorting through a box of papers, I see a spider. If I see one, I'm going to freak out and fling the spider off of the paper into the bed. Then I'm going to say, "Baby, I can't sleep in this bed."
Hannibal: Then I'll say, "I'm more than happy to move to the futon with you.
Me: But, then I'll say, "The futon is on the floor!" It's too dusty to sleep on the floor. We have to go to a hotel. Then if we ever come back from the hotel, I'll say the spider probably had babies in the bed, and I never want to sleep there again."
Hannibal: We are NOT going to a hotel when we're paying to stay here, and one spider can't make babies on its own!
Me: Hey, you're supposed to be speaking in future tense.
None of this has happened yet!
Hannnibal: Mmm (continues) typing.

Three hours later, my back and butt hurt like hell, and I didn't even see a damn spider. Grrrr!..

(Hannibal then later reminded me that he didn't actually say anything after "why not?" I actually said all of that in one long breathless monologue. "You don't seem to need me for most conversations," he said, "so you don't need to pretend like I participate." I reminded him that people would think I'm crazy and that all these conversations are happening in my head. He said, "I'm willing to take that risk.")

Update from Thematic Thursdays (last week): So, the person I was advising on long distance relationships decided to send her guy a pair of crotchless panties through the mail. That's sexy and spontaneous, right? The only problem was that his sixty-year-old secretary turned beet red, and several women were laughing at him when he entered the office. Folks, please save the kinky mailings for your man's home mailing address. Sorry for any confusion this may have caused. :)

Labels: marital mondays, marriage, thematic thursdays