MY RIGHT TO GET GRUMPY

My hubby just doesn't play fair. We rarely ever fight or argue, but I do occasionally get into a seriously self-righteous snit -- usually when his hoarding habit starts encroaching into my personal territory. It's no big deal, it's no big deal, and then one day I wake up, and suddenly it is a big deal, and I get gloriously grumpy. This time it was the little balcony porch where my BFF and I always go to sip wine or a mug of hot tea, whilst sorting out all the problems of the world. Hubby claimed the downstairs porch and the stone patio, but this little space just off the kitchen is mine, and I went to a lot of trouble to get it decorated just so. But then he started using it as a dumping ground for this and that. And he filled all the cute, colorful flower pots with really ugly, half-dead plants. Then he used my precious vintage lawn chair as a potting bench, and left if filled with dirt. And then, well, then I turned into the Wicked Witch of the West, and let me tell you, it felt good. But then he had to go and spoil it all by doing this!

Apparently he had already ordered these hanging baskets, and was going to surprise me with them.

Dirty Pool, John Lane. Dirty Pool!