The AC Gestapo/Writers diet

Last nights low was 60 degrees, it is currently 72 degrees outside. The AC polizei woke up this morning and while making his morning rounds discovered that the AC read 76 degrees. Without taking the time to let his mind register the fact that the thermostat was actually set at 79 (which by the way is still too low for his liking) he went on a rampage. So now our punishment is that he is going to set the AC at 82 degrees for our imaginary transgression. He was yelling at everyone including myself. I know from personal experience that 79 is our compromise. He is forever setting it at 80 and 81 and when I come home from work suffering from heat exhaustion (damn cheap employer turns off the AC as soon as my shift begins) I often turn it down a notch to 79. So it is likely that I was the last one to touch the AC. I should be laughing at all this but I just can't find the humor in it. The moral of this story is. Never marry an Irish man, they like to yell and are incredibly frugal. I have also heard that they drink a bit so God help you if they are in recovery and forsake the spirits. At least if they are passed out drunk during the day you can get a break from the bitching, you could paint his nails and dress him up in a tutu and take pictures for revenge or just for a funny.

It is always more convenient to blame other people for your problems. (Personal responsibilty is so over rated) So I am declaring that it is K's fault that I am so fat. Here's my reasoning- (flawed as it may be)
K and I are not the best at communicating with one another. I am not blaming this on any one, it is just a fact. If I did want to blame someone that would be a lengthy blog but I am not going there today. I don't like to fight, I don't thrive on drama or conflict. Because of this there once was a time that instead of having words with my husband, I would just run to the computer and pound out a few harsh sentences. This usually sufficed to expel whatever it was that I was feeling. I think that he read something once that he did not appreciate and from then on out automatically assumed that every time he found me writing that it was something about him and that it was nothing good. In fact he has not willingly read anything that I have written in many years. That cuts a little but that is not where I am headed with this. I stopped writing so much, and replaced the habit with going to the fridge and seeing what I could stuff my face with. End result more than a few too many pounds on my frame. This morning when K went off on his AC tirade I tried to reason with him and he would have none of that so instead of going to the kitchen I sat down at the computer and whipped out this little lovely bit.