God hates me

I've always heard that God has a sense of humor. He has to right, I mean, look at the Aardvark, the Ant Eater, Nancy Polosi. But my husband and I have noticed as of late that our lives are filled with little 'gag gifts' from up above. Any extra money we get and plan to save. Nope. The refridgerator suddenly dies, or the toilet blows up with me on it. And let me tell you, to remove porcelin from your butt is no small medical bill.

My husband's favorite saying is "God hates me." I try to be positive by not agreeing, pointing out why He might feel our carpet needed to be flooded with outside sewer water. And trying to smile as I say "and wasn't it wonderful that the exact amount of money in our Europe fund will cover to replace it!"

Now, once again God cracked a joke. Oh, I hope he's laughing, because I'm not.
Our 13th wedding anniversary was planned out right down to the slinkly little outfit that I was going to wear. We had our dinner, movie, our dance music, everything planned in anticipation. And then BAM without prewarning boob aches or those nasty back pains, I got my period THAT morning. Not only was it "Ha, you're screwed for any sexual enjoyment tonight, but it was a bad one. Four motrin and it hadn't Begin to cut it bad.

Maybe my husband's right. Maybe the year had something to do with it. 13th. Or maybe God likes a good joke and I'm his favorite buddy! Which ever one, pass the damn chocolate!