Karma!

Last night I strategically left a pile of neatly washed and folded laundry on Todd's side of the bed so that he'd be forced into helping me to put all of the clothes away before he could climb into bed.

Reluctantly he put his socks and t-shirts in their appropriate drawers, as I did the same. I had a pile of t-shirts that I work out or sleep in set off to the side. I pulled out one such t-shirt (an old gray XXL Michigan t-shirt that Todd had once discarded for donation, but I rescued for slumbering in) and tossed it to the end of the bed, planning to wear it to sleep in that night.

After I finished putting away my half of the laundry and Todd finished putting away his half, I turned around to see Todd and Whinnie snuggled under the covers, and my Michigan t-shirt nowhere to be found.

Me: "Where did that t-shirt go?"
T: "What t-shirt?"
Me: "The gray Michigan one that I had on the end of the bed."
T: "I put it away."
Me: "Where?!"
T: "In the closet with the rest of my folded t-shirts. Isn't it mine?"
Me (getting unnecessarily pissy): "I thought it was mine now! I was going to sleep in it!"
T: "Well it's not lost...it's just in the closet..."

So as I, huffily and annoyed, made my way back to the closet to pull it out, I stumbled and stubbed (better word would be bangedthehelloutof) all the little toes on my right foot on a wire rack sitting in the middle of the closet (which Todd is planning to put up at some point).

Expletives escaped my mouth at a rate faster than the micro-machines guy. My loving husband, in his sweetest, yet most matter-of-fact voice sang out from the bedroom "kaaarmaaa".

Which clearly made me even more pissed. Which I continued to let him know. So he countered with "wait, now it's MY fault?! you're mad at ME?!"

Yes! Because instead of rushing to my rescue to sweep me into his arms and throw me on the back of his white horse and take me to the ER (or the kitchen to get ice) to stop the swelling and ease the pain, he just sing-songily told me it was karma.

Now I'm just trying to decide what was bruised more -- my toes, or my ego.

Side note: I have now taken note of the little truth that I have, in fact, become my mother*. Blaming my husband for something completely out of his control.

Being a wife is grand. There's always someone to blame**! ;)

*and there's no one else in the whole world that I'd rather be like! you are the best!
**just kidding hubs. I'll only blame you 87% of the time. loveyoulikeitsgoingouttastyle!