My husband is a real asshole regarding physical labor.

We're trying to get everything set up for the xeriscape in the back yard by tomorrow because the gravel guy comes to dump 8 yards of stone down tomorrow.

At a spry 29 years, his job is to do the hard physical stuff, but I did landscaping in college, so I totally know my shit.

Did he ask me how to lay the tarp and how long it should be? Why NO.

Did he ask me which pegs to use where? Why NO. He did not.

Did he have all the freaking sprinkler lines capped that he was supposed to on the weekend when it was barely 80 degrees? Why no. He was working on them in the dark last night because that was the only time it wasn't 90 degrees or above. Did he douse his wife several times in the process with little warning? Well, yes, he *did* do that.

Then he had the unmitigated gall to be cussing and crabbing, too.

Did the more mature 41 year partner consider taking a hammer to his head instead of to the stupid pegs as she was trying to fix his mess in the HOT dark? Noooooo. Not me. I'm a good wife.

Did I feel sorry for him when he got bit by an annoyed non-toxic spider? Nope. Not a whit. (I paid that eight-legged friend a lot of live flies to do that.)