Men!

Thankfully we women know how to communicate. Otherwise I'm certain we'd all be dead - from killing one another out of sheer frustration. My daughters just laid down for a little nap after a super-quick outing this afternoon. We'd just arrived at WalMart and taken our coats off and were heading to the back of the store, when DH called, stating he had an emergency.

Of course, I immediately thought Emergency Room. He quickly went on to say that he needed me to go into his work email account and find an email from a vendor and look up the specs on the top of the PDF. He wanted me to verify the dimensions of a window.

I calmly explained that we'd just arrived at WalMart and were planning to pick up a few groceries and some laundry detergent. And that it had taken me 45 minutes to get out of the house. He asked if we'd filled the cart yet. Not yet. OK, great, then would I mind loading the girls back into the car, rushing home, going up down up down up down the stairs until we made it inside, and then calling him once I found the email.

Grrrrr. Being a nice wife, that's just what I did.