The Time I Might Have Been Wrong
B says that I can’t admit when I’m wrong. Hardly. The fact of the matter is…I’m just never wrong. Boys are always wrong. It’s science.
The thing about this, though, is that it’s just another example where B is wrong; I can totally admit to it. Since the instances are so far and few between, I have no problem fessing up when I make a slight mistake.
Last week was practically a heat wave; temps were in the mid-30’s and even grazed the low 40’s. I could close my eyes and practically feel the sand between my toes. I kept waking up in the middle of the night all gross and sweaty from our flannel sheets and electric blanket. We weren’t turning the blanket on, but it’s still fleecy and cozy and trapping body heat. Waking up sweaty is the worst. Especially if I’m not showering that morning, which, let’s be honest, is a pretty regular thing. It’s pretty hard to wake up in a pile of your own sweat and face the day bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I told B we needed to swap out the flannel for normal sheets and pack the blanket away for another year. He was more affronted than when I zone out on his fantasy baseball spiels (yeah, I’m totally listening about that, um, trade…). I said we had to get rid of one; let’s change the sheets and keep the blanket. He was adamant we keep everything. Since I was too lazy to push him off the bed and strip it, I just moped around until he suggested Taco Bell for dinner and forgot about it.
Fast forward to this week, which has been a doozy. Sunday was one of those days where the sun is shining and you’re like, ooh spring! And then you head outside in a light jacket and flops and are immediately fucked. Growing up in the northeast, I would never make a rookie mistake like that, but I did wear a lighter jacket to the supermarket and paid the price; or rather B did, which was listening to me complain about how cold I was the entire time.
Yesterday was one of those awful winter days with snow, sleet, rain; the whole “wintery mix” at its finest. Even with the heat on blast, I couldn’t warm up. Until I crawled into bed with the flannel sheets, extra toasty from the electric blanket. I guess B was right about keeping them on. Maybe I should listen to him more often. He did know not to listen to Puxatony Phil’s prediction; that little rodent is on my shit list.
The thing about this, though, is that it’s just another example where B is wrong; I can totally admit to it. Since the instances are so far and few between, I have no problem fessing up when I make a slight mistake.
Last week was practically a heat wave; temps were in the mid-30’s and even grazed the low 40’s. I could close my eyes and practically feel the sand between my toes. I kept waking up in the middle of the night all gross and sweaty from our flannel sheets and electric blanket. We weren’t turning the blanket on, but it’s still fleecy and cozy and trapping body heat. Waking up sweaty is the worst. Especially if I’m not showering that morning, which, let’s be honest, is a pretty regular thing. It’s pretty hard to wake up in a pile of your own sweat and face the day bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I told B we needed to swap out the flannel for normal sheets and pack the blanket away for another year. He was more affronted than when I zone out on his fantasy baseball spiels (yeah, I’m totally listening about that, um, trade…). I said we had to get rid of one; let’s change the sheets and keep the blanket. He was adamant we keep everything. Since I was too lazy to push him off the bed and strip it, I just moped around until he suggested Taco Bell for dinner and forgot about it.
Fast forward to this week, which has been a doozy. Sunday was one of those days where the sun is shining and you’re like, ooh spring! And then you head outside in a light jacket and flops and are immediately fucked. Growing up in the northeast, I would never make a rookie mistake like that, but I did wear a lighter jacket to the supermarket and paid the price; or rather B did, which was listening to me complain about how cold I was the entire time.
Yesterday was one of those awful winter days with snow, sleet, rain; the whole “wintery mix” at its finest. Even with the heat on blast, I couldn’t warm up. Until I crawled into bed with the flannel sheets, extra toasty from the electric blanket. I guess B was right about keeping them on. Maybe I should listen to him more often. He did know not to listen to Puxatony Phil’s prediction; that little rodent is on my shit list.
Comments
Still true this year, but this year I was freezing!!