I think my husband is trying to kill me.
As soon as I finish typing this, I'm going to check our insurance policy to see if he's upped my 'value'.
You see, we went on a little hike today in a pretty park nestled in a nice little neighborhood. I think it's very inconsiderate of him to try and commit murder in such a bucolic place. Rude actually.
So, this little park has a few undulating hills, enough for someone as out of shape as I to get the heart rate going and work up a sweat. No big deal. But, this park also has Death Mountain.
Some people would call it a hill, but I know better. Everest climbers practice on this hill...or at least they could.
Well, Hubbypants tells me that he is going to do the hill and that if I want, I can just stroll around and meet him on the other side.
It wasn't 'what' he said so much as 'how' he said it.
Well...let me tell you, Dear Reader Person, I was not about to be left behind. I have no idea what is living in those giant holes that line the walking path and I -for one - am not about to be left alone to be brunch for some giant woman eating spider or pack of tiny dinosaurs. It could happen, you don't know!!
Nope, I'm going up that hill with Hubbypants.
Now, he claims that taking the Eastern side, otherwise known as Stroke Incline, is easier than taking the Western side - lovingly referred to as Heart Attack Hill.
Tell me how he can deny trying to kill me. I say this is evidence enough.
The hill lulls you into thinking it isn't that hard by starting off gently - until you get half way up. I start wondering what all the flashing lights are and if that swaying motion is an earthquake. I express my concern to Hubbypants about where we are going to find a doorway, out here on this bitch of a hill, to wait out the quake - AND he doesn't even look concerned. Not the slightest bit worried that my coronary health is in jeopardy!
More evidence of his plotting my demise, is it not?
Not even when three quarters of the way up I'm hunched over, gripping my knees and gasping for air, does he show the slightest bit of worry over my distress, choosing instead to say as he comes up behind me, "Oh...hey, since you are already bent over..."
He has no idea how close he came to suffering a month in traction - all it would have taken was a good solid butt bump from me and he would go tumbling down the hill ass over tea kettle (don't ask me where I learned that term, I have no idea)! If I didn't need him to push me the rest of the way up I'd have done it too!
As you can see, by this post, his dastardly plan didn't work.
We are going back tomorrow, but he doesn't know I'm on to him.
I'm going to call the insurance company right now and change the beneficiary to my cat. I don't trust the kids not to be in cahoots, since one of them keeps begging for an iPhone and the other is eyeballing some fancy-schmancy gaming laptop. I'm sure they'd love to get their grubby little hands on that insurance money! Besides, our house doesn't have any stairs so the cat can't trip me on them - I'm sure she is planning my demise as well.
If you don't see a post from me tomorrow, alert the authorities. Avenge me!!!