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“Could you please bring some firewood in from the porch before you come to bed?”
“Why? It’s not going to get cold.”
“They said it was going to get down into the 40’s.”
“They said 60’s.”
“No, they didn’t! Please bring some wood in. It’s supposed to storm in the morning and it will all be wet.”
“Okay, okay, I will.”
Before getting into bed, I remind him.
“Don’t forget to bring in some wood!”
Famous last words. Guess what was still on the porch this morning when I got up. The thermometer outside the kitchen window read 47 degrees. No firewood. I could turn on the heat but I prefer free woodstove warmth.
At least it hadn’t stormed yet. Braving the stiff cold wind in my pajamas, I lug the heavy carrier into the house and start building a fire.
“I forgot to bring in the wood, didn’t I?” he said as he came into the room. I just rolled my eyes and covered my bare feet with a throw as he chuckled. I failed to see the humor.
Later he went to fetch the mail. “It’s cold outside!”
I wanted to say, “Ya think?” but thought better of it. All the sarcasm and accusations in the world wouldn’t change anything. Ah, wedded life. . .