Ok, we’re just gonna jump right in:
- I scored a Cynthia Rowley shirt at Goodwill and since it’s not really a Goodwill find unless you tell at least one other person, I told Brian. And then he said: “Is that your new cat shirt that you sleep in?”
No. Not it is not. To clarify:
This is a Cat Shirt:
This is a Cynthia Rowley Shirt, accessorized by slouchy model with hand hat:
I don’t know, really, why his lack of understanding about Cynthia Rowley shirts makes him the worst, but it just does.
2. Then, there was this conversation:
3. Oh, and so yea, this is happening:
The husband is in Dublin, Ireland and it’s not acceptable. Like, that’s HIS HOTEL. In DUBLIN. Which is just totally not ok. I’m not in Dublin. I’m here, talking to you folks. Which is great and all and I really love you but so what? And… did you notice the adorable probably-Irish girl with the adorable Irish hair with her adorbs Irish hair buns? I mean, honestly. She probably has the adorable Irish lass accent thing FULL on and I AM NOT THERE TO HEAR IT. (I dunno, she could be from Detroit for all I know, but she just LOOKS Irish. Also my husband is standing like he’s posing for his fourth grade science fair, but you know. That is his thing.)
Also there’s this:
Yes this is an Irish pub which honestly would not probably be my favorite place to hang out because I’m sober and all, but STILL. I want to BE IN Ireland, to NOT go into the Irish pubs.
IT’S ALL SO UNFAIR.
Also, yes, I know. I have traveled a bit on my own and it’s been very fabulous and my husband never really complained at all but that’s because he’s not a mom blogger. And I am.
So, let’s CONTINUE:
4. Then, this happened:
He gave me the thumb’s up. The monster.
5. Well, I don’t really have a fifth one at all. I miss him. He’s off eating boxty and something called a bubble and squeak which sounds like it needs to be paired with an antacid, and then probably singing off key at a pub while some guy named Ronin plays a penny whistle, and then they’re talking about the road rising up to greet you and blar blar blarney blar.
I just miss the wee lad is all.
It’s also just a teensy bit possible I have completely envisioned his trip as a sort of Brigadoon Adventure Ride when in fact he’s there on business and he’s an engineer and it’s not quite as green clovers and magically delicious as I imagine.
But then… it’s Dublin. He’s being strafed by rainbows as we speak. I just know it.
Also, THIS (just to be very, very clear) is a cat shirt: