So, I spent all evening yesterday working on a post about why I don’t weigh in on stuff like the latest evangelical pastor kerfuffle, and what happens when people effectively become media properties. And it was going to be all deep and thought-provoking and heartfelt and stuff.
Except I already did “deep, thought-provoking and heartfelt” this week with the whole “Aretha speaks for the wounded souls of women everywhere” post. So instead, you get this.
Last night, Chris got this “I need to have an uncomfortable conversation with you” look on his face. Which knowing us, could mean anything, but I’ve learned is definitely going to mean at least ten minutes of lead-up before I find out what he’s got on his mind.
As it turned out, he was upset because I’d tweeted “to your two thousand followers” that he, and he alone, had failed to plan for our impending 20th anniversary.
“No, no nononono…” I said. “I tweeted we failed to plan. WE.” I was quite sure of that. So sure, that I whipped out my awesome Samsung Focus, tabbed through my last day’s tweets… and saw:
Apparently, somewhere in trimming my tweet to fit the 140 character limit, I somehow dropped off a critical “and I.” Thereby managing to transform a glib “ha ha, my husband and I are such scatterbrains, please help us find a travel deal” to “my husband sucks” and effectively ruining his day.
Funny how failure to proofread can lead to marital discord and ending up feeling like the worst. wife. EVAR.
On a separate-but-related note, I just received an email from our church, reminding us to RSVP for an upcoming training session so they could “assess our childcare needs.”
Except “assess” was missing the final letter.