Monday, September 08, 2008

So, last week I'm cleaning dishes and such and decide to reorganize/switch the storage of pots and pans. (They were on the opposite side by the pantry while the juice was under the stovetop) J comes in the kitchen and helps me out, there had been a few peices of wood, metal contraptions from the previous owner of this house and bits and peices of things I don't even know what they were. In this group was some left-over tile. J picks it up and heads to the basement wondering where this tile came from. He didn't believe the tile he was holding was used anywhere in the house. I grab his attention and he looks up to find me pointing in the direction of the sink/stove/counters. The left-over tile he was holding was the tile used on that kitchen wall. His response: "Oh my god! There's tile there?!" (or something along those lines, as I do not remember the exact wording--I just know I damn near pissed myself I was trying not to laugh too hard)

We have lived in this house for over a year. We moved in June 1, 2007 and last week was when J noticed there was tile on the back wall of the kitchen. He cooks, and he used to be the one who washed the dishes, so how he went a YEAR without noticing the tile is beyond me.

I love my husband. He amuses the shit out of me.
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