Colonel Mustard in the Library with the Vuvuzela.

Okay, so I almost died tonight.
No, really. Carter almost killed me. He almost gave me a heart attack.
And you know this has to be true because I don’t ever exaggerate. Ever.
Okay, fine. I exaggerate always. ….sometimes.
But really – this is true.
Picture it: my parents’ house, 2:00 PM. A light breeze blows outside, rustling the trees. Lola is going ape-shit barking at the  birds on the porch railing. I ascend the stairs to go fetch my sandals and chapstick. (Because I never go anywhere without my chapstick. Mostly because 2 minutes after we leave the house [Every. Single. Time.] , the first thing out of Carter’s mouth is, “Babe, can I use the chapstick?”).
And then, I almost choked on my heart. I shit you not. I almost choked on my own heart.
Why? Excellent question, kittens. I’m so glad you asked.
Here is a time when we need to take a tiny break to talk about the difference between perception and reality. My sweet dad always told me that “Perception is 90% of reality,” meaning that if you perceive it as being real, then it is real to you. Or something like that. He also said nifty gems like “Beware hubris, Squeaker!” and “We pay for performance, not promises, Kitster! “ and “There’s too many f*cking animals in this house! New rule! 16 non-human legs! That’s the limit!”
He’s a peach. Truly. (No, really – I have the coolest dad. My mom’s pretty nifty, too.)
Anyways, back to Carter trying to kill me and take advantage of our lack of pre-nup by taking all of my books and pet mossballs.
PERCEPTION:Behind me, from the hall, I hear the horn of Boromir. In that split second, I am evaluating my escape route, as the house is clearly under the attack of a hoard of Uruk-hai who want to serve me for dinner with a side of Labradoodle. Boromir is in danger, but he tried to take my Precious, so I think to myself, “Meh, f*ck him,” But I steel myself to be brave and resolve myself to survive. Completely in control.
[Photo Source]
REALITY: Carter snuck up the stairs behind me and blew into a Vuvuzela from the Salvation Army pile. I screamed, nearly lost control of my bladder, and almost started crying.
Yep. Completely in control.
Here is what we learned:
1.     I am a giant weenie and need to stop watching certain episodes of certain series based on certain books wherein people go to a wedding and then everyone you love dies right before I go to bed. Actually, scratch that – it’s a show in which everyone you love seems to die period. Period. Le sigh.

2.     I need to stop doing anything involving suspense close to bedtime. I don’t sleep well which makes me really uptight which makes me nearly hysterical when my husband tries to be silly. And by “nearly hysterical, I mean “nearly pissing my pants.” 
3.     As much of a pain in the ass as I may be, my assness pales in comparison to Carter.
4.     As I resisted the urge to maim Carter immediately following this incident, I thought to myself, “My heart is stronger than I thought. I will sign up for the Tough Mudder after all.
5.     After getting winded chasing Carter down the stairs to slap him silly (you know, for trying to end me), I thought to myself, “I feel like there will be a lot of stairs in the Tough Mudder. Better not.”

It’s been a red-letter week for marriage in this house. Just yesterday, Carter was criticizing my new bathing suits. (We’re going to the beach. Or, as one of Kara’s friends, for whom English is a third language, pronounces it, “We’re going to the bitch.” For reals.) Anyway, here’s how it went.
ME: Do you like them?
CARTER: [hissing through teeth] Eeeeeeeeeeh. They’re ok.  
ME: What’s wrong with this?!?!
CARTER:  They’re kind of mom-ish.
ME:  They are not! Look at my boobs! My mom would not wear this!
CARTER: Uhhhhhhhhh….
ME: These are not “matronly!” And even if they were—
CARTER: But there aren’t any strings.
ME: Babe, let me tell you something. First – you’re lucky I’m in a 2-piece at all and not wearing a burka to the beach.  Second, if you put a string bikini on this body, it will look like a tied a beef roast.
Wisely, he walked away. I married a prince, kids. 

And because I can’t think of a “neat” way to end this post, I would love to remind you that I guest-posted this week at The Silent Isle. Please, please, please go check it out and stick around. Anna’s blog is wonderful. This makes perfect sense, because Anna is wonderful. She’s good with my kind of crazy, anyway. 

Happy Wednesday, y’all!
Facebook Twitter Pinterest Plusone Stumbleupon Email

Related posts:


  1. Ah the heart attack moments. Once, when SU (Spousal Unit) and I were first married, he worked graveyard shift at the hospital. I was up making popcorn when he came home so I didn’t hear him come in over the whir and pop of my late-night snack. He startled that poo out of me, and I picked up and threw the closest thing I could find. Turns out it was a bunch of napkins which just fluffed all over he kitchen. But still…

    If you can go for a 2-piece at all, I’m impressed.

  2. I may or may not have built an entire delusional fantasy around your proclamation that you were doing Tough Mudder and how I could travel down south so we could be on a team together. Then I read the next sentence and my dreams were CRUSHED. Way to go, Kate. Also, I live in the largest Muslim community outside of the Middle East so I wouldn’t even notice if you rocked a burkini at the beach. Or the bitch. Whatever.

    I’m starting to feel duty bound to get into GOT.

  3. I am laughing so hard! You never fail to make me laugh. My husband likes to scare me in the car by waiting until I’m almost asleep and then yelling, “Oh my Gosh!” Yea, that’s always a riot! Go for the Tough Mudder! You can do it!

  4. First off, why did you ever let Carter buy a second-hand Vuvuzela? I asked myself the same question when I brought home not 1, but 2 from Argentina for my kids (we have since “lost” the noisy part of both).
    Second, yes to watching upsetting shows before bed. I only watch sophomoric cartoons and sit-coms. Still, I’m intrigued by GOT.
    Third, two piece at the beach – I’m impressed! I wish I could. I hate my matronly bathing suits. But, like I told you, they’re super low-cut so there’s lots of boobs to make up for the stupid skirt.
    I miss you. I doubt we’ll connect before we both are beach-bound 🙁

  5. Oy, I laughed so hard at this! Especially the bathing suit comment! I sadly still need to go shopping for a bathing suit-I am certain it will not be the highlight of my day and I will probably end up with a “mom-ish” get-up. ha! I saw via IG that you’re roaming around in my neck of the woods (SC)!! Hope you’re having tons of fun. If you haven’t done so, check out my old haunts on Folly beach. (Crab shack is delicioso!)

Leave a Comment: