Women are evil plotters. Wicked. Never to be trusted.
See what I mean? My wife must do this on purpose. I swear she does. Scouts honor. And it’s evil. She knows I do not like my pants folded from seam to seam. I despise it. I loathe it. Pant legs should be folded so the seams lay against each other, so that a nice little crease forms down the middle of the pant leg.
But noooooooooo, after 22 years she still insists on folding my pants the wrong way. I found these the other night as you see them, displayed on our bed to taunt me.
I do not give her the opportunity to fold my pants very often, for the very reason that you see here. They will be folded WRONG. WRONG. ABSOTOOTLY WRONG!
It is a plot. She does it on purpose. She knows that if she folds them wrong, I will do my own laundry in an effort to keep her hands off of my pants.
Of course, it could just be that stubborn wife thing. After twenty two years, if we are having hot dogs for lunch, she insists on preparing my hot dog for me and presents it to me on a plate.. slathered in ketchup, without mustard. It’s if she enjoys watching me gag. Ketchup must never touch a hot dog. Never. It’s something she will never accept, so she insists on serving me a defiled hot dog.
I won’t go into the proper way to fold my briefs. Or how she refuses to leave the TV on when I fall asleep on the couch while watching a baseball game. Then there is the thing about turning off my music if I leave the room to tinkle.
I will get my revenge. There are ways.