I woke up today with the birds singing and the sun shining. My son ran into my room and gave me a huge bear hug. My 2-year-old daughter told me I was her best friend. Of course, I will remind her of this when she is 16, wants her belly button pierced and hates my guts when I refuse to sign the parental consent form. I tried to cherish the moment knowing tomorrow my son will have a temper tantrum to stay home and my daughter will smack me across the face at some point in the day.
After I sent the older kids to school I decided to check my email. I received a message from an old college friend I haven’t spoken to in years. Actually it was from her and her husband? I was a bit perplexed. I have never spoken to this man, but the “From” line had both of their names. Then, it hit me. They had a joint email account. Obviously they set up Yahoo during newlywed bliss when they were riding on cloud 9. I can’t imagine that will last forever.
I protect my email passwords. I can’t even finish a sandwich without someone wanting a bite. I need something that is my own. I don’t want my husband reading emails to my girlfriends about his snoring, disgusting eating habits and inability to fix the broken oven door. Our oven is currently rigged shut. My husband’s solution was scotch tape. When the second sink in an upstairs bathroom wouldn’t stop leaking he “fixed” it by shutting off the water. He is a brilliant man, but not a handy one. Thank God for my father and the yellow pages. If you have a joint email account your husband also gets emailed receipts of every purchase you make. Plus, do you really want to read every ESPN update or joke from your husband’s obnoxious friend.
God created email so wives would have an outlet to bitch. It’s way cheaper than therapy.