May I Help You?

The Husband came home tired and frustrated. Rough day. He asked me to feed the dogs (his job, traditionally). Of course, I said I would, because that's the kind of loving, supportive, compassionate wife I am.

The Husband spoils the dogs rotten; he mixes dry and wet food in his own special way to ensure neither feels slighted. The dry food is on the floor by the dryer; the wet is in cans on top of the washer, in the back left corner. I'm a whopping 5' tall and need steps to reach almost everything in the house. I was on my tippie toes, reaching for a can of dog food, tipped over the tray they were in, spilling the only three cans we had behind the washer.

So, of course, I call The Husband, because he's 6'1" and has some looooong arms. He ooooches up onto the washer to reach behind it. He's a big guy, so this was quite a sight and I. Cracked. The. Fuck. Up. And he started laughing and sorta bobbed up and down on the washer. I lost it.

Me: Aren't you glad I helped you feed the dogs?

TH: Yeah, hon, this is great. You don't need to help anymore.

Me: Are you sure?

TH: Yeah, I'm sure.

Guess I'm off dog feeding duty!

In other news, I found a gray hair in my nether region. Never mind the circumstances. That's private. 

Have you ever been less than helpful? Was it fucking hilarious?

Have you been there?