The Mister, never one to pass up a good bargain, checked out all the 50% off books.
When I got home, I found this on my des
Oh, yippee! A book! I love me some books! The Mister saw that the book was wr
Guess what I saw on the cover? The title...it looked like it it was entitled CLEANING. What? HOW DARE HE? Buying me a book about cleaning? We live in a pigsty? WTH? For about ten seconds, I got myself into a bit of a snit.
Not that I don't need a book about cleaning - but the book I need should explain how to get a DESIRE to clean. I already know how to dust, vacuum,sweep, wipe, scour and fluff and fold - I just see no need to do so...as far as I know, Queen Elizabeth is not coming for cocktails. So I let the dust bunnies exponentially multiply. Big deal.
But I digress...
After my ten second fantasy about spousal retribution, my middle-aged eyes saw the real title - CLEAVING. As in a cleaver (not like June Freaking) - the cleaver that butchers use. And my snit? It went into hibernation, and The Mister was not privy to my ill temper.
Oh, the book? I started reading it, Julie is cheating on her husband (this was after her Julie/Julia book was published), and she has this great desire to learn how to be a butcher.
I think the story would have been improved if she suddenly embarked on a life of violent crime...but that was not the case.
I haven't gone back to the book yet.
I'm so glad I didn't throw a hissy fit about the book...I'd hate this book to be the last one The Mister ever buys for me.