SH: The ground might be wet at the amphitheater tonight [for the Earth, Wind and Fire concert].
Me: That's OK. We can take some trash bags to sit on.
SH: It might rain. We're not allowed to take umbrellas in.* But they sell ponchos for a few dollars.
Me: Why don't we just take some extra trash bags?
SH: No. I'd rather be dead than be caught wearing a trash bag.
Me: [You're going to bankrupt us.]
Related posts from the tragic journalspace past:
Tangled up in blue
posted 05/11/06, Two years before we got married and when we were still LD dating between Memphis and Milwaukee
Coming from a woman with maybe ten pink suits, this might be a case of the pot calling the kettle black (as it were), but how many blue shirts does a man really need? What you see here are only a few of the shirts in SH’s closet. He must have (wait while I go count) 85 button-down shirts and 20 polo shirts.
Most of them are some shade of blue.
SH pointed out that these shirts in the middle are actually very different: one is linen, one is pinpoint, one is casual. They all look blue to me.
I really don’t have a problem with this. I don’t care if he has a lot of shirts. I’m all in favor of clothes. The only reason I don’t have more is lack of storage space.
(This is enough shirts that he can wear a different shirt every day for three and a half straight months -- and I am not even counting t-shirts, which he could get away with if he wanted, because he works from home. If he bought enough pants and underwear, he would only have to do laundry about four times a year.)
But when I visit, there is no room in his closet for me to hang anything. Even if there were room, he does not have a single extra hanger. Not one.
Who doesn’t have extra hangers? I always have a bunch that accumulate that I end up taking to Goodwill with my old clothes once or twice a year.
See, this is all about me. Isn’t it always? I just want to be catered to. That’s all. All I want is a place to hang my suit (pink) and maybe someplace to put my clothes other than in my suitcase. Am I asking too much?
Tangled up in blue part 2
posted 11/07/08, when SH and I were in Morocco visiting Steve and Megan
Henry and I were looking at some photos and came across one of a man wearing a blue shirt riding a camel.
Me: Henry, who is that?
This is Henry several years ago. He is a big boy now, but I love this photo.
Henry: I think it’s SH.
Me: I don’t think it is. I don’t think SH has ever been on a camel.
Henry: No, I think that’s SH.
Me: I don’t think SH has been to Morocco without me and I never rode a camel here.
Henry: I think that’s SH. Does SH have a blue shirt?
* Note that if SH were writing this, he would totally not end with a preposition. His father was an English professor and SH writes very, very well. He even spellchecks his casual emails, which makes waiting for him to send a "quick" email to a friend before we leave to go to our tennis class or out to eat a maddening affair, but that's another story. It was, after all, his ability to write so beautifully that captivated my heart initially. And that he was such a hottie.