Sunday, July 21, 2013

Don't Mess With Me-Apparently I'm a Ball Buster

My husband and I were at Costco today to get food for a dinner we were having.  We were in line at the checkout and I realized we had a lot of items and I hadn't brought bags.  So I asked Eric to go get a box.  Ya know, they have all these boxes at Costco for you to put your stuff in.  Here's the convo:
Me: Can you go grab a box for some of this stuff?
E:  What kind of box (looking confused)?
Me:  Just a box, I don't care.
E:  Really, because you are usually pretty particular about things?
Me:  Just get a box!

Seriously people, he looked afraid to go and get a box!

Me:  Why are you being so weird about getting a box?
E:  I just don't want to get yelled at for getting the wrong kind.

Mother of Pearl on a stick!  I swear to you that I am not that bad.  I'm not *THAT* wife that would yell at her husband in frickin' Costco about getting the wrong box.

Will someone please tell Eric that he has it pretty good!  Please??  Because, apparently he thinks I'm a ball buster of monster proportions.

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