So, I promised I would not be depressed today. Woohoo! I am not. I swear. I’m just as happy as a Republican candidate during a debate with Rick Perry.
Would you like to know the secret to my sudden recovery?
How the Cap’n Deals with his Lovely Wife in a Funk:
He listens sympathetically to my declarations that there is no point to anything and I’m tired of trying so hard; then he asks what he can do. I get irritated.
He gives me time to myself.
He cooks dinner. (Well, he usually does that anyway. I suck at cooking.)
He listens sympathetically again. I get irritated again.
He doesn’t say a word as I finish my dinner and leave the room to return to my Depression Chamber, the bedroom.
This is what is known as a Super Funk – the clutches from which Mrs. Cap’n Firepants does not easily escape. Primarily because she does not even try.
Cap’n Firepants realizes that it is time for desperate measures. Two days of Funkitude are the max in our house.
In what can only be called an extreme act of reckless abandon, he releases the hounds. Literally. Removing the gate that separates the bedrooms from the front part of the house, he looses Wonderbutt and Mrs. P.I.B. into The Forbidden Section. Cap’n Firepants is taking a big risk. This could have two results – one of them easily being A VERY ANGRY MRS. CAP’N FIREPANTS.
Wonderbutt races down the long hall into my bedroom, entire rear end wagging (because he has no tail to speak of) and happily gives me a sponge bath with his tongue to let me know that a rare treat is occurring. After suitable affection is granted he proceeds to investigate all of the new things we have forgotten to put away in the hopes that an errant sock will be found.
He eyes something dangling temptingly out of the hamper and yanks it. Dimples laughs hysterically and Firepants’ blue eyes twinkle. Mrs. P.I.B. forces her head under my hand as Wonderbutt proceeds to bolt down the hall, dragging my favorite Victoria’s Secret push-up bra behind him.
I can yell at everyone to get out and for Firepants to retrieve my bra.
Or, I can grab the camera.
A Disaster to End all Disasters is averted. The Funkitude disapparates.
Pardon me now as I try to find my bra.