Every man has his limits.

I know that lots of people probably consider me a high-maintenance wife, but I'm here to set the story straight.

(Stop laughing.)

If Hubs is in a generous mood, he'll tell you that I'm not demanding of his time, money, or attention, and in fact, I'm fairly easygoing.

(As long as I get my way.)

(Hey, if I can't own it here, where else can I own it?)

Regardless. Hubs is his own man, and I always encourage him to go out with his friends and have a good time and do his own thing, mainly because that frees up more time for me to do whatever I want makes him happy. Then we're both happy, and everything is good.

(Even though he's usually happiest when we're together and he gets to snore on the couch. Seriously, the man is a homebody.)

Then there are days when all of the stars align and I manage to piss Hubs off beyond my quota.

One of these days occurred while Ben was visiting.

First, I did something in the morning that I don't remember, and Hubs got irritated. It was probably along the lines of "please put this away" or "don't leave that there" and I completely blocked it out.

Then, Hubs called and left me a voicemail telling me he was stranded on the side of the road and I didn't get the message until two hours later because Ben and I were ogling hot surfers sightseeing at the beach.

(In all fairness, he did not say that in the voicemail message. He merely said to "call him back right away because it was kind of an emergency". But I didn't get the message. Honest. Otherwise I would've called.)

Later in the afternoon, Ben and I were sitting on the couch, contemplating our outfits (not kidding) when all of a sudden we heard a thump, and then the Tiny Dog came around the corner limping and whining.

ME: OMG OMG What's wrong with her?

BEN: Is she hurt?

ME: I don't know I don't know OMG OMG!

I pick her up and she's shaking and acting all weird and convulse-y and I try to set her down but she picks up her right foot and hops sideways.

ME: OMG OMG is she okay?

BEN: OMG WHAT'S WRONG WITH HER?

(Yeah yeah, I know that's a lot of "OMG"s but really, you have to consider the sources.)

I pick her up again and set her on the couch and she does the weird sideways hoppy thing again.

ME: She's hurt! I'm calling Hubs! We're going to the vet! *dialing* SOMETHINGISWRONGWITHTHEDOGWE'REGOINGTOTHEVETCOMEHOMERIGHTNOW

Poor Ben doesn't even have time to put on his shoes and we're out the door and I'm speeding to the nearest animal hospital which, thankfully, is only like six blocks away.

We rush in and Ben's holding Tiny and also his shoes, and the vet tech checks her over and says she's stable, probably just a strained muscle or something, and if we are really concerned, we should take her to the emergency animal hospital because THEY'RE CLOSING.

At that point I'm surprised that Ben's Gay Glare didn't melt their faces off (if you're not familiar with the Gay Glare, well, be grateful, that shit is brutal) but we collected the Tiny and went back to the car.

As we're sitting there and I'm about to call Hubs to tell him to meet us at the emergency vet, Ben tries to shove his feet into his shoes and makes an observation.

BEN: You know, she's not really shaking anymore. Like, at all.

ME: What? Really?

Ben sets Tiny down on the floorboard of the car and she sniffs around and hops back up onto his lap to look out the window. We both look at each other and then back at Tiny.

ME: (to the dog) Are you fine? Are you seriously COMPLETELY FINE right now?

She wags her tail and Ben starts cracking up.

BEN: Listen here, Tiny. If anyone is going to have a fake diva bitchfit around here, it's going to be ME.

ME: Hubs is going to MURDER ME.

***

Needless to say, Hubs was not exactly my BIGGEST fan when he came speeding up to the house and jumped out of the car, only to find Tiny running in estatic circles and trying to jump into his arms.

Time of third strike: approximately 4:30 PM.