So, I love my husband. I do. I love that we still really dig each other. I love that we’re in this for the long haul.
That being said, motherfucker is super inconsiderate when it comes to Christmas cookie etiquette.
Last Friday, we had a potluck at work.
After everyone had cleared out, I scrounged the dessert table because Randy and I are always looking for something sweet on a Friday night.
My office mate looked at my sad little napkin with a few buckeyes and some cookies and gave me a gallon bag half filled with cookies. “I didn’t put all my cookies out. You take these home with you.”
Well, fuck yes I will take your snickerdoodles home with me.
Buckeyes might be a regional thing. They are candies that are a ball of sweet peanut butter coated in chocolate and they look like a buckeye that comes from whatever tree produces buckeyes. I could look it up, but it’s sort of late and I don’t feel like it.
When I got home, I put the cookies and buckeyes on the counter.
Me: Do NOT eat all the cookies.
Randy was looking at me with a flat expression that said “how dare you accuse me of even thinking about indulging in such a nefarious act.”
Me: Have you, or have you not, many times in the past eaten all the cookies without leaving me even one?
Okay, so we have this entire conversation and we both end up laughing, even though we’re both a teeny bit annoyed with each other. We move on and Skype with our mountain friends for a bit and, before we go to bed, I go to the kitchen to get my share of the buckeyes.
I brought home 4 buckeyes. There was one left.
Me: Did you really eat 3 of the buckeyes? After the whole cookie conversation?
Randy: You said to not eat all the cookies.
Me: Are you fucking kidding me right now? It’s not just cookies. It’s all the sweet stuff. You have to share.
Randy: Well, you did just say the cookies.
Randy: Honestly, I didn’t see that last buckeye. If I had seen it, I would have eaten it.
Seriously, I can’t even fucking be annoyed because that was funny.
He’s also a music hog. Not even kidding.
He wants to decide what is playing all the time and while he is usually gracious when I insist I get my way, there are times he is downright pouty about it.
I am writing this Saturday night after attending my extended family Christmas party. Randy is cycling through the live cams he watches on Youtube. Apparently, this is what old people do on a Saturday.
I have to go check to make sure there is still half a pecan pie on my counter. We brought home cookies and pie from the party. The cookies are Middle Sister’s chocolate chip cookies which are the best cookies in the universe. Mine are pretty amazing and very nearly exactly the same as hers, but hers are just a tiny bit better. I already hid those.
The pie is just sitting there.
All I am saying is, I better get a piece of that goddamn pie.