I Deserve a Raise

WARNING: Do not read if you are consuming food

I sent the following email to my husband today:

Dear Travis,

Today, this was my savior! 

I cannot thank you enough for having the foresight to install this hose on the shower. Holy mother of all that is holy! Josie's high fiber diet backfired this morning in the most horrific way! Explosive...like nuclear explosion! Like all the baby wipes at Sam's wouldn't have begin to put a dent in it. She was COVERED! Legs, stomach, arms, neck...I hosed her down over and over and over. I washed her with antibacterial soap. I Cloroxed every surface in the bathroom.

I deserve a raise.

Love,

Elizabeth

He hasn't responded.  Maybe he's busy with back-to-back meetings.  Or maybe he's pouring over diamonds at the jewelry store trying to decide if I'd prefer earrings or a necklace and if 3 carats is too big.  Or maybe this will be like the day I tried to submit my resignation letter via email.  He refused to accept it.  I'm pretty sure that had something to do with poop, too.