Mr. Bex entered a weight loss contest at work and is driving me bat shit crazy. Thankfully today is the final day of it and, he claims, he'll take me out for lunch anywhere I want to go to thank me for my participation.
While I might have been construed of as "less than supportive" early on by mocking his giving up the nightly cocktail while I enjoyed my steak, I've more than made up for it this morning. Yes, this morning I have given counsel on the ins and outs (mostly outs) of laxatives. I have also wrapped said husband from head-to-toe in saran wrap - and we're not even going to have sex!
Then, when the aforementioned laxative kicked in I was required to rewrap and then help dress him in his already sweat (and god knows what else) covered clothes. I may never be really clean ever again. All of this and it's not even 9am yet.
This is why I will have a bloody mary bigger than my head with my lunch today and I won't even feel bad about. I've fucking earned it. He, on the other hand, may have earned about a thousand bucks and bragging rights, so he's pretty happy. I can hear him, as I type, in the other room doing situps in his saran wrap ensemble. Jesus....