Monday Morning Massacre

Guess what I did yesterday? No, it wasn't blog, read my favorite blogs or even go near my precious computer. It wasn't bonding with my children, shopping for clothes or even cleaning my house. No, instead, picture me going to open up my deep freeze to pull out a package of grade A Alberta beef for supper later that night, only to realize, hmm, that's a funny smell. And what is that, is that, oh no, it is, a pool of blood at the bottom of my freezer. Oh oh. That's right, dear internet. My deep freeze was in the deep thaw. And I was in deep shit.

After slamming the lid down, like any good wife would do, I started yelling for my hubs. After all, I wasn't going wading in a puddle of melted blood, animal carcasses and bags of unfrozen vegetables and fruit without him. It smelled like the interior of a butcher shop and looked like someone had been massacred inside my freezer. Call me crazy, but this is one of those events that definitely falls into the category "For better of for worse." After dragging his sorry butt from bed, he then proceeded to not only pick the underwear from his ass, but tell me, and I quote: "It's a puzzle." No shit Sherlock, but who the hell is going to clean the fvcking puzzle up, because it certainly wasn't going to be me.

Turns out, it was me. Surprise! After my husband deduced the freezer wasn't broken, merely unplugged, he figured out it must have been the guys who cleaned my furnace and my ducts. Four days ago. While getting my ducts cleaned sounds kinky, (and the guy did have the most beautiful blue eyes) just thinking of the surprise he left for me takes the fun out of the kink. Bastard.

But no one can say he didn't screw me over. And let's face it, for a Monday, it was the most action anyone in this house got.

Update: The furnace dude, with the pretty blue eyes, came back and handed a fairly large check over to me, to cover the costs of replacing the spoilage. My rat bastard husband, however, never lifted a finger to help me clean out the deep freeze. I am currently plotting my revenge. But until I come up with a satisfactorily devious plan, you can bet your sweet bucks that he is not getting any!