I’m not a big shopper.
And I hate wearing shoes.
I particularly hate the black work shoes I have right now. I’ve hated them for about two years but with a really intense, fiery passion for the past 8 months. Recently, I decided to stop being super cheap and do something about it.
David even said I could buy shoes.
But here’s the thing.
I figured since I had the go ahead to get shoes, I may as well get some boots too, right?
So I set off to look for warm winter boots that would not make me look like I have monster feet. I pestered a bunch of people about it and still couldn’t narrow it down between three pairs of boots.
So, I casually sent my husband an im and asked if he was busy.
Not too busy, he replied.
Can you look at some boots for me? I asked.
What the hell did you just ask me? he responded. This is not Boss Lady, he proclaimed.
I cajoled him momentarily. I explained that I just wanted to know which pair of boots he would make the least fun of this winter. He caved pretty quickly. And advised me on which pair of boots to buy.
So sometimes? I’m a bad wife.
But David is usually a pretty damn good husband.
Except when he’s trying to light the black flame candle.