A few days ago, I was laying on the bed at night and I was, like, kinda ticked. Not ridiculously mad or anything, but just kinda bugged because I had seven or eight loads of laundry to fold and putting away laundry is probably the thing I like least about being an adult. It's just so... tedious. I hate it.
Anyway, I was laying there thinking about how I didn't want to fold the laundry when Andrew came and sat in front of me and started cracking jokes and, also, more than likely started showing me something on his iPad that he thought was hilarious. I am a sassafrass of a wife, so this bothered me more and, frustrated, told him to take off his shirt because I didn't like it- I didn't say this, but he had been wearing it for months more and more frequently and I just really didn't care for it and thought "Again?" every morning he put it on.
Back to my story. I said "Take your shirt off. I don't like it." and, in less than half a second, he ripped the shirt off and said "You don't like this shirt?!" followed by "I hate this shirt! I only wore it because I thought you liked it!". Then he flung it to the floor and, as they say, the shirt became history.
It's so dumb, but we are still laughing about this.