The Life of a Pharmgirl...

My Husband is a Tard...

But not EVERY day, thank God. Last night while I was giving the baby a bath I hear the spine-tingling CRASH of broken glass. My dilemma was that the baby was in the tub, so I couldn't just go off to see what was happening. I employed my daughter to stand on a chair by the baby and "watch him" for a second so I could go see what the hell was going on. By the time I got into the foyer, my husband was walking in the front door, swearing. That crash would be one of our custom-sized windows in my guest bedroom, and the source would be his golf ball. Way to go, Slippy. My daughter could hardly WAIT to call Grandma & Grandpa so she could tell them what dad had done. He had told my daughter that he had done a stupid thing, but even so, a few minutes later when she said "Dad, I know you're stupid, but why did you break the window?" it was STILL pretty darn funny. It reminds me of the time he flooded the basement by leaving the dog's water dish to fill in the bar's sink and then he walked off. Ten or fifteen minutes later he returns...

Here's the thing, if I did any of these things, I would take SO much crap it wouldn't even be funny. When HE does it, he just shrugs it off. The ironic part is that if I had to make a bet on who would be more likely to ruin things around the house, I'd have to bet on myself. And while I may be a slob, that usually doesn't cost us money.

I think he should no longer be allowed to play golf, own a golf club or even hold one. Ya see, this is his SECOND golf-related accident. The first one involved a tiny sapling on the 18th hole and his eye. Yup. He hits the ball, it hit the tree and WHACKED him right on his eyebrow. Blood everywhere...stitches aplenty. He's sooooo lucky he didn't lose his eye. Had a hell of a shiner for quite sometime, though!

So for now, we're sporting the white-trash look with card board and duct tape plastered to the front of our house. Now where to hide those golf clubs....