I've had a bit of a tiff tonight with Mr. Drip Dry and I need your help.
'Cause I'm locked up here in my study and he's in the expansive downstairs. . . 'Cause I'm the one who stormed off in a huff, while he had the foresight to stay put. . . 'Cause I'm the one who only has a laptop and he has a big screen t.v. . . . 'Cause I'm bored already, but I dare not give in . . .'Cause it's completely dry up here and he has access to a myriad of beverages in the refrigerator. . . 'Cause I was right and, of course, he was wrong. . . .'Cause I think I forgot what we fought about, but he might remember. . . and because I thought I'd be good and mad for the night, but realize now that it's only 8:02 p.m.!!!
Entertain me people! I'm a prisoner of poor planning!!!
So tell me, dear readers. . . what would you do in my situation? Would you. . . .
a) Blog about your ridiculous fight (whose origins you can't quite remember, and - quite frankly - don't care about) to the entire blogging community????
b) Sneak downstairs like a stealth fighter and steal a bottle of wine? (Thank God for screw tops. . . heh???)
c) Make sure you conveniently use all the toilet paper on the roll in the master bathroom, 'cause he'll be looking for it in the morning?
d) Swish his toothbrush in the toilet a few times?
e) Chalk it up to experience, retire to your bed, and decide that next time, you'll be savvy enough to make sure that he storms off while you keep the balance of the house?
or. . .
f) All of the above.
Do tell, bloggy friends, do tell . . .