It's finally happened. I've been forced to start a blog. I mean, no one's got a gun to my head, but this morning (take a deep breath and sit down if you aren't already) my boyfriend of two years said I'm like his mom. All I did was recommend that he not stick a wet spoon in the sugar jar because it creates gross lumps. Is that so wrong? I mean, how are we going to raise children to be upright, productive members of society if we live like animals?
Not that we have children. Nor are we planning on it in the near future. One day we'll be married with children, though, and I refuse to bring up children in a sticky house with lumps in the sugar.
"You're like my mom or something." That's what he said. As he went back to playing World of Warcraft for the third hour since waking, knuckles popping, unshowered head wrapped cosily in it's cap, I couldn't help but wonder if he lied about his age.
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