Okay, so I have discovered I don't like to lose. In anything. BUT, I have considered myself a very very good sport. I've gotten very skilled at laughing at my own failings. I love nothing more than a good friendly competition of...well, anything, really. Last night caught me a little by surprise.
In a game of Phase 10 (of all things, right?), our friends the Hep's, the twins, niece Katie, Lou and I sat around the dining table for a late night game. Maybe it was the round of Cranium the ladies team lost earlier, but I was NOT about to lose again. Worse, the twins have made it a mission to annoy the crap out of me that day. Even worse, Lou wanted to join in on the festivities. I think that was it, my very own husband lost all sense of "Team Och" and banded with his brothers to tease and inspire homicidal thoughts.
Ugggh! Needless to say, I caught up with everyone else after being stuck in the first phase since I was endlessly served with Skip after Skip card by none other than my enemy brother-in-law Donald. Lou would jump in and make some smart ass remark about my losing streak so many times, I could have cared less who witnessed if I had reached over and decked that smug little smirk off his Ochoa face. But by the time I had redeemed myself, images of stuffing pillows on their sleeping faces continued to brew in my mind.
I refused to converse with my suddenly remorseful hubby that night, and went to sleep with the heavy feeling of annoyance. I awoke this morning, refreshed, and forgiving. I walked into the bathroom and found this:
Bahahahaha! Apparently, I had given the impression my anger was tantamount to that which deserved a bouquet of remorse and reconciliation. Love it! Teaches him not to side with anyone but the wife! Priceless!
0 comments:
Post a Comment