Stinky Feet Confession

After work yesterday, I went home and got hubby and we went to drop off some materials at the mall for a promotion my company is doing. While there, hubby decides he wants to go into the mall. What, hubby never wants to go into the mall. Believe it or not, I was so tired, I said I had no desire to go into the mall. Me, woman, does not want to go into the mall! The earth hath tilted off balance. Actually, I am not much of a shopper anymore. I usually go shopping when I have something specific in mind that I need. Now that doesn't stop me from buying lots of things I didn't intend on buying, but...

I knew I had no money to spend and therefore mall = no fun. Hubby then suggested going into Barnes and Noble. Well, I knew I would be better off in the mall than in the bookstore. I can resist spending money on clothes, but I can't resist books. No siree bob.

So into the mall we went. I was hungry and tired and irritable and the mall was really the last place I wanted to be. I needed food to sustain any mall excersion. We went into Bag and Baggage, because apparently, news to me, hubby needed a bag.

"I need a bag."

"What do you need a bag for?"

"For work."

This is a man who I have offered to buy a briefcase for many times, but preferred up to this point, to carry all of his stuff around in a box. Yes a box.

So he looks through bags while I walk around the store wondering why in the world we are here, because I knew full well that hubby is not going to spend Bag and Baggage dollars on a bag. We should be at Office Max or something more appropriate. If hubby got a leather "bag" I would probably kill him because all he would most likely do is ruin it (sorry honey, but probably true).

Bag and Baggage was as far as I made it before I started whining about food, so I bribed, okay, manipulated, hubby into taking us to PF Changs. Yummy.

I am getting to the title of this post, really.

Despite hubby, "not wanting to be at the house" and being "bored", I convinced him to take us home. I was beat and all I wanted to do was get out of my work clothes and lay down. First thing I did when we got in the truck was take off my shoes.

Now I will admit I have some stinky feet. I mean stinky. So stinky that sometimes I can't even stand it and have to go wash my feet in the bathtub. Stinky as in, makes you sick, stinky. Certain shoes make it worse and I had on my worst pair yesterday. Even though I have the stinkiest, nastiest feet in the whole wide world, hubby likes to smell them just see how bad they really are. He smells my feet almost once a day. I don't know why, but it is now a joke between us. We have pictures from both our engagement pics and our wedding where he is smelling my feet. Yes, strange, I know, that we are.

So the first thing I did after taking my shoes off in the truck was stick them in front of his air conditioning vent. Aren't I such a loving wife?

"Shooter, those are disgusting. Don't do that again."

hee hee. Well, let's just say hubby tried to get me back by, "letting one go". It was his revenge. "Sniff that." As I rolled down the window and we fought over keeping the window rolled down, I stuck my foot back in front of his vent. He let go of the window button on his side of the truck.

"Baby, I can't compete with those. You win."

I was strangely proud that my stinky feet won out. Strangely proud. They don't always win though.