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?