I’ve started employing the #worldsworsthusband hashtag on Twitter for shit that Dan does that annoys me endlessly. (There is also a #worldsbesthusband hashtag, but it doesn’t get used nearly as often.)
Monday was one of the #worldsworsthusband days. I realized upon my arrival at work that morning that I was locked out of my office, because my keys were in the backpack I brought to work on Friday. Now, my building unlocks automatically at 7:00 AM, and I have more of a nook than an office, so I was still technically able to get to my desk, turn on my computer, and perform basic tasks. But I don’t have access to any of my cabinets – not the one with my post-it stash, not the ones with student records and transcripts, and not the one with my emergency candy.
EMERGENCY CANDY, GUYS. THIS IS A SERIOUS PROBLEM.
So what did I do? I called Dan. At [barely] 8:30 AM. And woke his ass up. Because I’m the world’s best wife.
I told him I needed my keys, and asked him to swing by around lunch time with them and then we could go to lunch! It would be just like a regular day-date, except at the end of it, instead of having to awkwardly make out with him or fake stomach pains so he’d leave me alone, I’d go back to work and my beloved (and newly accessible) emergency candy stash! PERFECT!
I met him outside my office building at 12:30. He pulled right up, I hopped in, and off we went for some delicious diner magic.
“Can I have my keys?” I asked.
His response? “OH, CRAP.”
That’s right, you guys. My husband drove thirty minutes to bring me my keys, and then didn’t even bring them. Which means that not only did I have to tolerate him for an entire hour, I had to do it with no access to my emergency candy stash as a reward.
All I have to say is that he’d better find a way to make it up to me. And it should probably involve chocolate.