My husband rocks because: He recorded an interview with Al Gore, for Time magazine. Al frigging Gore! AND, (because everybody loves Rob) he was able to make small talk with the former VP; they bonded over using Apple computers. How cool is he?
My husband sucks because: He gave me the WORST paranoia on Thursday. Our phone rang early in the morning and woke us up. Because none of the cordless phones are EVER where they are supposed to be, he had to go running all around looking for one, and missed the call. Then he looked at the clock, and started yelling.
“It’s nine o’clock! I have an interview at nine-thirty!”
He works a train ride away, so clearly he wasn’t about to make it on time. Doors around the house started slamming as he went storming through, and the dogs woke up and began rushing around, too, adding to the commotion. It’s a shitty way to start a morning.
I sat up, hastily trying to figure out how to handle the situation; meanwhile my heart was pounding and my adrenaline was flooding my system.
I glanced at the clock, and moaned.
“It’s quarter after six!”
“Huh?” said Rob. (*slam! slam! slam!* went more doors.)
“Dumbass. It’s quarter after six, not nine.”
He chuckled and got back into bed, and we fell asleep (after I gave him the Look of Death). Of course, I hit REM just as it was time to REALLY get up, and I spent the rest of the day feeling like I had cotton balls in my brain.