I’m accompanying the fifth grade to a church in Detroit that was a station on the Underground Railroad. Very excited about it. I think it sounds like the coolest field trip (which is why I volunteered to go when I’m on deadline).

Other than our annual visits to Greenfield Village, I think this sounds like the best day-trip ever.

Your favorite field trip?

PS Have you see this? OMG. *dies laughing*

Regift, that is.

Come on, it’s not Friday, but ‘fess up anyway. We’re all friends here!

Have you ever regifted? Have you ever received an obvious regift? Have you considered it?

The Motley Fool put together a list of DOs and DON’Ts of regifting, in case any of you need such a remedial guide (which I highly doubt, knowing how crafty and cunning you all are). Heh. It’s pretty much common sense if you’re going to do it, right?

So, I’ve never officially regifted, unless you count bringing a gift as a White Elephant for a Christmas party the following year. I’ve done that.

But, I have received a gift that was either a total regift, or so ridiculously wrong for me–from someone who in most cases has excellent taste–that there was obviously no thought behind it whatsoever. I didn’t regift it because it was that bad. (That person and I are no longer on speaking terms, but it’s not because of the gift.)

So, anyway…’fess up! Do you, don’t you, will you, won’t you, might you?

Got this in my email box, courtesy of my dear friend Binger.

A man and a woman who had never met before, and were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same  sleeping room on a Transcontinental train.

Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they  were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper bunk and she in the lower.

At 1:00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman  saying, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to bother you, but would you mind reaching into the closet to get me another blanket? I’m awfully cold.”

“I have a better idea,” she replied. “Just for tonight, let’s pretend that we’re married.”

His eyebrows went up and he smiled, “That’s a great idea!”

“Good,” she replied. “Get your own f&cking blanket.”

After a moment of silence, he farted.
(An hour later, I’m still laughing about this. Hope it cheered up your Saturday!)

Though I’m still elated with the election news, today has dawned gray and dreary here in Michigan. The balmy 70s weather we’ve had all week has given way to rain and drizzle, and in some parts of the state, they’re suggesting snow might be involved.

And then there’s my husband. Whom I really do love dearly. But this morning he happened to do three of his regular things that annoy me, all within an hour.

I’m sure those of you who are married or who have a significant other or partner can relate. We love them, but there are those things…those little, tiny things…that they do all the time that make you sigh and lift your eyes to the heavens for patience. Call them Significant Other Pet Peeves (SOPPs).

As I said, this morning, Music Man happened to clock in with three SOPPs, which, considering it was within an hour, hit my patience threshold for a dreary Friday. I might have rolled my eyes, but I bit my tongue too. Good for me.

First, he loaded the dishwasher. Now, most of you might think that’s a good thing, and in theory it is. But for those of you who are the regular dishwasher loaders/unloaders in your house, you understand that there are certain ways things are done. The dishwasher has to be loaded a certain way. It may differ from household to household, but in each household, there’s The Way.

That Way is established by the person who does it most of the time (me). But despite the number of times that I’ve showed him (and it’s not just MM, to be fair–it’s the kids too) that the bowls stand up on their sides in the little bars, always facing the middle…and that the glasses go on the right side of the upper rack, not the left, and not straddling the little bars but between them…and that the long utensils go on the long utensil shelf…he (and they) persist in loading the dishwasher haphazardly.

Which pretty much means that I have to re-load it anytime I want to fit more than the dozen dishes they’ve managed to put in. I keep threatening to have remedial dishwasher loading classes, and force them to load and unload until they get it….but I’ve not yet done so.

The second thing he did was put something away up high. He’s 6′2″ and I’m 5′4″. For some reason, he persists in putting things away Up High. Where I not only don’t think to look, but can’t reach them. He puts everything up at his reach-level, as if there isn’t any other storage place.

So then, more often than not, he either catches me looking ridiculous as I sort of jump up and try to get the thing (and then of course he laughs), or I manage to barely reach the item and knock it over so it falls on my head. (I just did this recently with one of three cans of shaving cream he put…wait for it…Up High.) (Ouch.)

So I was looking for something that I use quite regularly and finally he said, “It’s on the top shelf in the pantry.” Which is easy for him to get to, but I need a stool. I have to keep reminding him that I’m half a foot shorter than he is, but it doesn’t matter.

And the third thing is…I came upstairs after ushering everyone out the door for school and work, and found the radio on in our bathroom blaring from after his shower. Not only does he have the inability to load the dishwasher properly, and the propensity for always putting things at his height, but he also cannot walk into the bathroom without turning on the radio in there. Even if he’s just passing by, or getting a drink of water. The radio goes on.

And he never turns it off.

Sigh.

So, much as I love Music Man, there are days when I roll my eyes so hard I strain an optical muscle. Today was one of them.

Any SOPPs you’d like to share on this Grumpy Friday?