In my quest to get not just data but actual results, I’m spending some quality time with my enzyme today. (I usually only work Sundays as part of my new-resolution to make my work week bearable. But that’s another blog post.) Anyhow, I crept out of bed this morning while Dr. Man slumbered away and went to the lab. I’ve been here ever since. I received a phone call around 11:30 asking about lunch. I told him that I was stuck here until at least 1pm (sigh, a watched column never produces any flow through). We talked for a little bit longer and he asked me about lunch. I told him not to wait and we hung up. About an hour later, I receive a text message. I see that it’s from him and I smile thinking that it’ll be some nice, sweet message expressing his undying love and affection or expressing sympathy that I’m working. But, no, I get “Can u buy beer?”
At least my working today wasn’t for naught. I can bring home the bacon… er… beer.
Seriously, can you buy me some beer too?
Well, if you’re already going to the store, mine’s a…
(who am I kidding, way to hungover to face the beer I was just offered).
One of my colleagues overheard a phone conversation I had with my husband last week, asking him to pick up milk. “Did he get the milk?” she asked the next day. “Erm, no, he didn’t!” I replied. “There’s some in the fridge, you can take that. You shouldn’t rely on a man for these things”.
Of course when I took her milk home that night, my husband had bought some too…
Sorry to hear you are stuck in the lab (hopefully you went home long ago!).
My husband is at the store right now. He has already called 3 times asking what we need. No beer on Sundays in this state though…
ROFLMAO!! That sounds about right.
Sunday lab time is quite the norm for me. I try to limit it to less than 3 hours though. Then I don’t feel like my weekend was robbed.
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