Rob, holding up a pair of skinny jeans: Whose are these??
Me: Mine. They go right up there.
Rob, looking from my body to the jeans: These aren't really yours, are they?
Me, slowing in my clothes hanging: Yes, Rob. They are.
Rob, looking closely at the waist and legs as he folds them: They're just so.......tiny..........
Me, not hanging anymore. Just looking at him narrowly: ................
Rob, trying to redeem himself: And short. Yes, very short.
Me, reaching forward to tug on a section of the jeans: That's because you just folded them with the legs still halfway inside out.
Rob: Huh.
[Silent folding and hanging.]
Me: That was super.
Rob: Yep. Sorry about that.
[Silent folding and hanging.]
Rob, with a twinkle in his eye and holding up a pair of Silas' toddler pants that had been mistakenly caught up with our clothes: So these are yours, right?
*********
Sometimes I'm annoyed he redeems himself so often. I'm even more annoyed I actually laughed. Stupid quirky charm...
1 comment:
Well, I don't know about the division of labour or mutual efforts in household dutires, but I suppose, because it'sTexas, you're closet is big enough to fold clothes in. We do it on the kitchen island.
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