In which they never learn

I have mentioned in the past that I am not a morning person. Don’t misunderstand this statement; I can and do function very well in the morning. Get a cup of coffee in me and I can move at warp speed. I can get more things done before 8:00 a.m. than some folks do in a day. My mind is clear; I have solved many a dilemma while taking my morning shower. The only glitch is that I really don’t like to be interrupted (or spoken to really, truth be told) during my weekday routine.

The Saint knows this. We have been married for twenty two years. And I have told him. On numerous occasions. I AM NOT A MORNING PERSON. And yet……

A. I told him last night Aunt Flo was coming. How hard can it be to unscramble the “secret code” in that statement which is: “Leave me the fuck alone for the next three days or I will rip your head off. Particularly IN THE MORNING!”

B. I told him last night I had an early morning conference call. “Secret code”: “I will be rushing in the morning; and in addition to all the other crap I’ll have to do I’ll BE ON MY PERIOD, so if I need to use the toilet and you are standing in front of it? I will slap you out of my way!”

C. Pouting? Hurt feelings? Seriously? If after twenty two years of marriage he still can’t figure out the code? I don’t think a jury in the world would convict me.