I came home around 1:20 and found the garage door opened. I figured Bobby was still working so I went around back to check on the roasting chickens. I let everyone out and sat to watch them for awhile. A little drizzle fell so I went inside and did some stuff. Bobby was napping. Then the Tstorm hit. I looked out front to see how the catch basin was handling it since Bobby cleaned it up and saw that my daughter had left the poptop up on her car. So I went out in the storm to close it (and the driver's side window) and realized the garage was still opened and it was raining in on a box of books I just brought back from my classroom. I said something to Bobby about it, he got defensive, then I got po-ed. He went to hug me and I shrugged him off. Long story short, we had an argument over dinner about it. He said I hurt his feelings by not accepting his hug (like he's done with it, so I have to be), then told me it was my fault anyway because I was the last one to see the garage door open. So I guess by that logic, it was my fault my daughters front seat got wet because I was the last one to notice it, and Bobby should have gone out in the rain to close the coop door because he was the last one to notice it. As it was, I went out in the rain, took care of the car, the garage, the coop AND the chickens. Because even though they're both home all day, it's still my responsibility. And the final blow? He said, and I quote: "When there's nothing left to complain about, what are you going to complain about?" I must be some terrible person, huh?
Okay, end of rant.
SHIrT ends up my fault when I'm not even in the same state