What's mine is mine and what's your's is mine

I'm trying to think threw the whole apostrophe thing on this blog title. I think I got all the possesive's and plural's write. Punctuation has never bin my strong suite. Spelling is an issue to sometimes. Thank God for spell chick.

OK, put down that sharp instrument. You need both eyes. I'll stop messing with you're brain.

Seriously, I'm stopping now.

Annnysways, I was thinking about how everything is shared in a marriage. Am I right? Especially if it's his and I want it. I mean, if he ever starts borrowing my clothes or my makeup, well, that's just too wrong to contemplate. I'd have to pull his man card at the very least. Ewww. But that doesn't stop me from borrowing his stuff. Like the black t-shirt I've been borrowing. I mean, I never see him wearing it. And it goes great under sweaters. The weird thing is that the other day when I went to "borrow" it out of his drawer, it was missing! I had to look a long time to find that shirt. You'd think he was trying to hide it or something. Sheesh. Then, of course, the next day he decided that this was the one day in 6 months when he had to wear that shirt. I wondered why he was digging through all his (2) drawers, turning his side of the closet inside out. Finally in frustration he asks if I've seen that black t-shirt. Umm, maybe, as I point to the dirty clothes hamper. Dangit, he says. I even hid it so you wouldn't wear it. (how rude!) I helpfully dug it out of the dirty clothes and pointed out it didn't really stink. Oddly, he declined.

Now why didn't he just tell me to please not wear his black t-shirt. It worked when he asked me to please quit wearing his favorite sweat shirt, and when he politely asked that I refrain from stealing his socks. I'm a reasonable person.

So I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm sticking to my side of the closet. Thank goodness his jeans are too big. I think I'd just go kill myself. Besides, I have some pride.