I don't get it, Susan. Just ask him for a Dr. Pepper. You're just going to stew otherwise, and with the back pain, you don't need the headache, too. I don't think you get to be mad at him and pretend you're in the right, when you didn't tell him either what you wanted, or that the water wasn't going to do the trick for you in the morning. I feel kind of badly for Dylan in this, honestly.

Susan, by "first thing in the morning," do you mean, first thing after getting up, or first thing after getting to work? If the former, he should have some clue. If the latter, he may genuinely not know.

And I don't see anything wrong with a well-phrased, "Honey, when you get a chance, could you bring me a Dr. Pepper?"

They only figure out what you wanted without being told, after you're dead.

What really cracks me up is now that we're married, I hear, "Sugar? Do I like/eat this?"

Aimee's link made me want to cry. And kick something. Threats are not free speech, and I hope you have a Postmaster who sees it that way.

OK, y'all are right. I'll wait on asking for Annabel's sake (girl wants her breakfast), but I'll be patient about it.

I'm just going crazy here. Cabin fever city. This is worse than bedrest was, because then I could go get myself what I needed as long as I didn't overdo it. And it's going to be 85 fucking degrees today and I'm going to be stuck in an oven of a house. Dammit.

Seattle can have its weather back. 40s and gray/rainy. I'm tired of it here in Boston!

Well, it's supposed to drop back down in the 60's on Saturday. But 85 is too fucking hot to endure without AC.

I can see the frustration of knowing that by "something to drink" you meant "Dr. Pepper" and your back hurts and you can't go get it yourself and that just makes erverything harder. But, yeah, not really his fault.

Of course, I spent a couple of hours yesterday totally pissed at DH because I had to go move things out of the old place while being attacked by cramps and fatigue, and not only was that not his fault it wasn't anyone's fault, but I had to point that anger at someone. Fortunately, I could channel all that into fueling the physical exertion, and by the time we were done no one was mad at anyone.

So, um, my point was...outlets for frustration other than spouses are good.

But 85 is too fucking hot to endure without AC.

Missouri summers would kill y'all.

I grew up in Alabama, remember? But the only places I've ever lived without AC are Seattle and Bristol. And I'm angling for a window unit once we buy the house, just so I'll be able to sleep in comfort during our rare bouts of 80's and 90's.

But 85 is too fucking hot to endure without AC.

Aren't you from the South? Aren't people from the South supposed to give a withering stare to someone who thinks that 85 is impossibly hot? The same look I give to native Californians who tell me 30 degrees is cold (after I lived in Buffalo for 8 years)?