As Lucy Ricardo said to Ricky, I can 'splain everything!

 If I ever were to say, "My husband's going to kill me",  I wouldn't mean in the Sunny Von Bulow fashion where one minute you are a carefree socialite and the next you are in a diabetic coma, while hubby swigs champagne listening to the ka-ching of your growing portfolio.

No, I refer to those small, tiny,  irritations that long term marital experience suggests a bit of upcoming discord on the horizon, a little tension, perhaps...sometimes related to shopping.

Let's just say, hypothetically, that while you are out of town, your husband discovers an eight foot long tightly wound cylinder delivered to your doorstop by UPS, (probably this Thursday by 5PM). My suggestion to that husband would be to place the unopened package in the guest bedroom behind the door and forget about it.  Notice I did not mention storage in the garage, also known as the holy tabernacle.

Keep in mind, dear husband, this is just a  trivial piece of my summer of gracious outdoor living project, soon to be completed.

Remember, I can 'splain everything!

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