First of all, you will need to read this Wee Confession to find out why I'm nervous.
Eleven months had really managed to make me forget my crime. It came back to me suddenly when were at our friend's house picking up our Christmas boxes that they are storing for us. It was like a light bulb going off. "Oh, oh I think some decorations were broken last year"
Even then I thought maybe the decorations might be broken. But having re-read through my wee confession I am even more nervous at what I am going to find. I only vaguely remember the event and not at all of seeing broken ornaments. This is where I want to swear. S#@$.
Do I confess to my husband what happened or do I let him think it was the result of being carried to storage and then from storage to our friend's house and then from there to our house that caused the damage?
Dare I be so sneaky or do I suffer the grave and disappointed look on his face. My husband is not a yeller (unless it's at the kids). He wont yell and stomp and storm and tell me he's mad at me for being so stupid, nothing so sane as that. Oh no, he will go all silent and grave and not want to talk about it. He certainly won't give me the "it's okay, I understand" speech or even attempt to make me feel better. Nope. Not that my husband delights in laying on guilt trips or anything like that. It's more that he's inclined these days to avoid arguments and so thinks it's best to say nothing at all. Manlike, right?
Only my man never used to really be like that. I'm not sure what has changed with him over the years. Or, maybe my rose colored glasses have finally come off and the man I thought was a great communicator is really just like all the other noncommunicative men out there who finds a measure of security in silence.
Still.... there is something to be said for silence when you've been bad.
Let's put it to a vote. I won't make any promises to abide by the decision though. ;)
Do I tell him or do I just let it slide?
I would let it slide. I'm manlike, I guess.
ReplyDeleteI would tell him...but then my husband probably wouldn't really care because he's a Scrooge when it comes to Christmas and all the nice breakable ornaments are mine. He'd probably just tell me it served me right for being pissy and that would be that.
ReplyDeleteHmmmm, I'd probably tell him but my first inclination is "make something up! make something up!". :)
ReplyDeleteTell him. Honesty is always the best policy...and it makes for a good marriage!! (put yourself in his shoes... that might help sway you... he might not even think its as big of a deal as you do)
ReplyDeleteBlessings-
Amanda
Just tell him, the guilt would be worse than the wrath :)
ReplyDeleteFellow SITSta,
T.
Personally, I would let it slide...just because I'm a major wuss who doesn't like people being mad at her (or making her feel guilty!) :)
ReplyDeleteStopping by from SITS!
I can't imagine hubby being that upset. Stuff happens. You could tell him that a fellow blogger has found a lot of broken bulbs this year as well. True mine were moved by a moving company that couldn't tell which end was up... but stuff happens.
ReplyDeleteI would suddenly remember something vague just before opening the box. Best of both worlds.
I'd just tell him. Of course my husband wouldn't care at all (neither would I actually). We're not that into the fancy breakable ornaments though, we're more of the handmade, hot glued, missing eye reindeer types.
ReplyDeleteI'm such a child. I would be play shocked and astonished with a slight bit of outrage. Then I would consign myself that's what happens in moving boxes. At least it's just ornaments. Right? Because accidents happen.
ReplyDeleteI've found that my worst fears about telling my husband something are always in my mind. And it is always a relief to get it off my chest. But I figured you've already decided what you are going to do by now. Sorry so late.
ReplyDeleteThanks for dropping by "Just Because My Pickle Talks Doesn't Make Me an Idiot" and leaving a comment the other day! Since KYS commented above, I assume that's how you found my place.