Here's our holiday card. I was all proud of myself because I ordered them from Shutterfly on Thanksgiving weekend, when they had some sort of great deal. Of course, since then they've sat on our living room bookshelf. Every night I'd think, "I'm sending them out!" And then, I didn't because there were approximately 73 other things I'd rather be doing. I kept wishing I had a wife who would handle it; Dave is never into pitching in with tasks like this. Tonight I realized why.
For the first time ever, I roped him into sticking on the stamps and mailing labels. He was also in charge of sealing envelopes with this handy-dandy Bottle Moistener I pull out once a year. I'd do the addressing.
I glanced over after he'd done a few. "Honey, the mailing label is crooked," I said.
"OK," he said.
I looked over again a little while later. "Sweetie, now the stamps and the mailing labels are crooked," I pointed out.
"Does it really matter?" said Dave, reasonably.
"Well, as long as you're doing it, you might as well put it on straight," I said.
He just stared at me.
I looked over again in a bit.
Crooked.
I didn't say a peep.
Sometimes, I give wives a bad name.
