This weekend the BHE and I were perfectly anti-social. Well, we did run into friends when we went for a post-tapas drink (it's nearly impossible for one to be anonymous when eating tapas on perhaps the most popular sidewalk in all of City B).
Speaking of tapas, here's a tip: Just because the adorable waitress at a tapas restaurant has dark hair, olive skin, and a slight accent, do NOT assume she is from Spain. She is, in fact, from Germany and you will look like an uncultured idiot for asking her if she is from Spain. To my credit, she mentioned that she had just moved to this country. I thought: She must be from Spain. She's working in a tapas joint. She probably likes tapas. And she can pronounce everything correctly, like flan.
Anyway, the point is that I didn't actually need the post-tapas cocktail because we had shared a bottle with our morsels and before that, I had imbibed half a bottle of pinot grigio during what shall now be remembered as my "Afternoon of Poor Wifely Behavior". Read on.
Earlier that day, the BHE went to the yard and worked feverishliy clearing out yard debris. I stayed inside and made lemonade (as a good wife should). Then I felt guilty for all the work he was doing, so I told him I was going to go clean the bathtub. But instead, I grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass and headed upstairs to watch a movie. All the while the poor BHE was working in the yard. But then he started mowing, and after my 3rd glass I gazed out the window at him and thought, "I wish he'd keep it down out there."
I got busted when the BHE came in to take a shower in our dirty tub. But hey, I made lemonade.