Husbands, some things are best left unsaid....

The bed was covered with unfolded, freshly laundered clothes.

Being ever the helpful hubby, I began folding some of the articles.

Seeing a pair of blue jeans, I grabbed them and at the same time casually soliloquied, 'Hmm, I wonder whose these are?' **see Cindy's version below**

I looked at the brand mark that is above the right butt-cheek, and continued, 'Ahh, these are mine.'

Cindy just about went through the roof. She grabbed them out of my hands, opened them up, showed me the big butt, and said, 'Did you somehow think they were MINE!!!?!!!!?!!!!!!!!!!?' She continued to chit-chat, bantering on in a non-linear fashion about a number of subjects--something about clothes-blind husbands, how good heaven is, that I was less than forthright (I believe that 'unbelievable' was the term she used), that it was fortuitous that there was an extra empty bed in the girls' room, etc., etc.

My protests that I had made that comment just as I had just grabbed them--i.e., when they were still just a clump of sizeless blue denim--fell on deaf ears.

Now I know why Hamlet was pondering suicide when he chose to soliloquy!

**NOTE**
Not quite how it happened. Having a load of clothes on the bed ready to fold, Louis began helping. As he picked up a pair of jeans and shook them out he said, "Are these yours or mine?"
EXCUSE ME! Is that a question you need to ask? Because if it is, then the diet I am on is completely inadequate. I would like to see him wearing a pair of my jeans.

Hmmmm?????


Sorry...I got lost in the thought of it. Let me wipe the tears from my eyes.

I think he will THINK the next time he helps me fold the laundry. No. He will not be getting out of it because of this. In fact...maybe he should be the chief laundy folder for a while....at least until it is obvious...without question as to who the clothes belong to.