Me man. You woman.

"Well, you have a coffee problem!"  This was my husband's retort when I began to "nag" this morning about his dirty underpants on the floor,  the remains of his mid night snack on top of  the bedroom TV, and his annoying habit of NEVER pushing in the dinning room chair after his meals.  I continued barking about the fact  that although, I may no longer work outside the home, I had zillions of things to do and that I refused to spend the better part of my day cleaning up after  his ass. Yeah, I typed ass.  "Ass" is in the Bible, so it's cool.

"I work very hard!", he snorted.  Seething inside I sucked it up, once again, and calmed the beast by smiling and agreeing that he was a good provider. I then pouted and in my cutest child like voice asked if he would pleeeeeze try to pick up after himself.  On cue, he agreed to try harder.  Sheeesh.  

I know I wear the pants in this household and deep down inside that sucker knows I do too. I love him and I married him, knowing full well what I was getting myself into with this one.  

So for the next couple of weeks his dirty underpants will magically find their way into the hamper.  He will clean up after his mid night snacks and his chair will be pushed in after each meal.  But as sure as the sun will rise,  my big strong handsome cave man will begin to slack and his sweet perfect housewife will show her fangs once again.