So my husband (DickHead today) crawls out of his death bed, has a shower and seems all happy and bouncy.
I’m all I-said-no-Movember-boy when he shows me how much better he is feeling.
So I send him out to get sanitary napkins for his daughters *snort*
As he is pulling out the driveway I call ‘Get me a present for looking after your sick arse all week!’
Hmmm, flowers would be nice.
Maybe some decadent treat for me to nibble while begging the tiny terrorist to just sleep just a little…
A voucher to my favourite shoe store?
He walks in. Swaggers almost.
‘Gimme my present!’ I yell like a five year old.
He saunters up to me. A huge smile on his face.
And he bought me this.
And he actually said, before I put his testicles in a choke hold,
‘So do I know what my wife likes or what?’
No DickHead. They are your daughters favourite…….