Bowl Floweth Over

Taking a break from ironing right now. Whew!! That is tough work, lemme tell you!! What I won't do for the man I love. Which reminds me...

I've been bugging Shawn about needing to replace our leaky toilet downstairs (in a world of "fell off the dump-truck yesterday" homes, we own a 19 yr old DINOSAUR) for a while now, to which he angrily insists that I am wrong, it can be fixed, yada, yada, yada. I think I must have hit a nerve last night, though, 'cause lo and behold, at 9:30 pm he is downstairs "tinkling" with the damn thing. I discovered this when I came running in response to the sound of "F*ck, F*ck, F*ck..I need help!!", only to find my downstairs restroom FLOODED. Luckily, it was his fault, so I could easily laugh at the sitch. Had it been mine, there would have been much screaming and much more swearing, followed by a solid helping of GUILT. Not so for Shawn. I think when he saw I wasn't pissed ( the laughing must have tipped him off) he was more embarrassed than angry, because he quickly started explaining, "I think I know what happened..." Anyway, it was fixable & funny, and who can't use that kind of drama once in a while, or once a week, whatever...