Monday, June 26, 2006

Collars

I had a rough weekend. I was doing things that I am not qualified to do, and my ineptness showed. One of my idiot brothers decided that we should all get together and re-do my parents kitchen floor. Then in the middle of the project another one of my idiot brothers thought we should redesign the entire kitchen. So I spent the weekend as an idiot amongst idiots. Dan was the only one that knew what he was doing, and trust me; he let us know it every five minutes. We laughed a lot, and we cursed a lot, so actually I rate the weekend as above average. Anytime you can laugh and curse without your parents being in earshot, it’s a fun time. All of the 8 boys chipped in on this project except for William. He used some lame excuse about living in Florida and that he is 1500 miles away. That’s crap. This is not what my story is about. My story is about collars.

I wear collared shirts to work. Golf shirts. I don’t know if it is the way they hang in the closet, or the way they are washed, but my collars get all messed up. They are not even. The right side is half up and the left is half down. They never seem to match up. So I woke up after a painful weekend of being abused, and was kind of cranky. I got dressed, and put on one of those crooked collared shirts. I was brushing my hair when I noticed the messed up shirt and I had a bit of a meltdown. I started bitching and moaning about how my shirts are always messed up. Yes, I blamed my wife. In the middle of my hissy fit, I woke up the boys. They came to see what the commotion was all about.

Vic was just taking my silly tirade in stride. She was antagonizing me, but letting me vent at the same time. Somewhere along the line I mentioned the possibility of ironing my shirts. She chuckled, and said, “Iron? I don’t iron. Iron them yourself.” I knew that was coming so I slammed a few more doors and acted like an idiot, then I went off to work. As I was leaving I could hear Luke saying something. He was whispering to Vic. After I was at work for an hour or so, I felt a little bad. I had my coffee already and realized that I had acted a bit like a baby. I called to apologize. Vic said that it was a good thing that I called because Luke said that I should apologize. What Luke was whispering to her was this. “Mommy, dad should apologize to you. You don’t need an iron. You always do my shirts perfectly.”

Is he a kiss ass, or what?

7 Comments:

Anonymous Katie said...

ROFL - I have the same response to ironing as your wife does, I don't do it. :) And maybe you could learn from your son how to get brownie points.... Have a great week!

11:53 AM  
Anonymous Sandy said...

I think it's wonderful that you owned up to having a temper tantrum and called to apologize for it...very grown up of you!

12:46 PM  
Blogger WILLIAM said...

I need to call attention to some facts about this story which I find to be false.

I quote-" I was brushing my hair when I noticed the messed up shirt and I had a bit of a meltdown."

This should read---"I was doing a comb over when I noticed a messed up shirt and I had a bit of a meltdown."

12:59 PM  
Blogger KristieD said...

ya, i am not much of an iron-er either. And i have the same thing happen to my collared shirts. Maybe i should look into the whole ironing thing. Your wife handled that well. And your son sounds like a cutie.

1:30 PM  
Anonymous the dogwalker said...

Aaah yes, Lukifer strikes again.

1:44 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm still at Mom's house

2:45 PM  
Blogger ThePapaDog said...

holy crap- he's a smooth operator

7:54 AM  

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