I discovered on Friday that this "getting domesticated in my 29th year" thing is probably not going to work out.
Mitch came home from work and told me that the daisies you and dad had given me for my birthday weren't looking so good. In fact, I think he used the word dying (yikes!). Outside I saw flowers that looked very little like the ones you had brought over only two days earlier. Where there were once perky petals on happy stems, I now had two pots of drooping, depressed perennials.
It's a good thing I have a domesticated husband (thanks Mom & Dad W!) who had not only bought a watering can the day before (I never would have thought of that, especially not at a store that sells chocolate), but actually did the watering for his tragic wife.
Don't worry, mom, the flowers are doing much better now thanks to Mitch; he'll be looking out for them. As for me? I'll continue to busy myself with taking photos of him doing the things I should be doing.
P.S. Mitch needs to borrow some thread so he can sew buttons onto a few of my shirts.