It's Obviously a Girl Thing

A while back, I admitted to a friend of mine, D, that our master bedroom needed a major overhaul.

After all, at the moment, we're living in a too-small house. So our bedroom has become the inadvertent dumping ground for all things that have no home. (See yesterday's video where I scan down to all the Christmas decor we forgot to take down. Hint: It's currently residing in the bedroom of yours truly.)

It's also still set up for our kinda-sorta co-sleeping arrangement. (Ella normally spends anywhere from 3-6 hours in our bed the second half of the night.)

It's also home to several pieces of mis-matched furniture that had no place in the rest of the house, and therefore, made up their residence in our room of reside.

In short, it's a mess.

And, frankly, I'd had enough of it.

I wanted a new bedspread. I wanted a cleaner layout. I wanted the furniture to at least look purposefully shabby chic and not just, well, accidentally shabby.

My dear friend, D, understood all this.

And it was as we were wondering through Target a few weeks back with our respective babies in tow that I saw it - a coverlet I kinda-sorta liked.

This caused me to launch into a whole diatribe about how I would never, ever buy another comforter for our bed, as it's puffy nature made the piece a big, old pain the butt to wash and, honestly, never looked the same after it's first washing. The stuffing never lays perfectly right again, and, well, the bed looks messy even when made.

Of course, my dear friend, D, understood all this.

I then went on to explain that I was looking for something more like a coverlet, a quilted piece that was heavier and would hold it's shape better.

The one at Target was kinda-sorta the color-scheme and fabric I was thinking of. Which is why I spent about 20 minutes holding up several other coverlets, debating. In fact, I almost purchased one, as they were on clearance, and Lord knows, clearance items don't last long at Target.

Of course, my dear friend, D, understood all of this.

Finally, I decided not to buy the coverlet because it just wasn't quite right, plus they didn't have the one I really liked in the right size, plus I still hadn't decided if I wanted a solid color or a print. So, 30 minutes later, we moved on.

And of course, my dear friend, D, understood all this.

Which is why, yesterday, she was ecstatic to find the comforter she knew I originally wanted, marked down for 70-percent off, on one of Target's infamous end-caps. She immediately wanted to get a hold of me, knowing how I may feel about this.

But, lacking her phone, she had no choice.

So she had her husband text my husband a photo. A perfectly framed photo of the coverlet, in the box, clearly marked with the clearance sticker and all.

It's all making perfect sense, right? I mean, obviously, the picture and price she clearly listed out were for my benefit, and - big picture, here - for the betterment of our master bedroom.

So what does my husband say when he opens said amazing text message and takes a glimpse of said picture? What does he type back to his friend, D's husband, waiting patiently on the other end?

"What the eff is that?"

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Pardon the kinda-sorta swear-word. (He's a sailor, people. We're lucky he didn't say the real thing.)

But man, did I have to laugh. Because when one guy opens a texted photo from another guy, you totally expect it to me a fart joke or a picture of someone's child spiking a football.

You don't expect it to be of a quilt. At all.

But me? If I'd gotten that text, I wouldn't have even had to read the caption. I'd know what D was trying to communicate.

Obviously, it's a girl thing.

And, unlike D, the hubs obviously doesn't understand all this.

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This is not the first time my friends and I have texted through our husbands.

Which is why, sometimes, if I originally say, "Tell her we'd love to come to dinner. What can I bring? How does dessert sound? Anyone in their family have allergies to strawberries?" it becomes "Dinner's cool. Dessert cool with you all? Oh, and berries?"

Yeah. That's guy speak. (That's actually rather generous guy-speak, too. My husband does not follow Brittany's Rules of Punctuation when typing, let alone texting.)

They just don't approach things like we do. And they don't text photos of quilts to their friends.

So, tell me, ever had your husband speak for your via text? Do you wish you hadn't? Share below.

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Happy Tuesday, everyone!