The One Question I Probably Shouldn’t Ask Anymore


English: Aged mulch of coarse home compost Cat...
The Reason I’m Buried In Mulch Lies In The Questions Asked  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
” What the hell do you think I’m thinking? “

That was the response to my question I posed to my other half this morning, before the day had gotten under way. He’s a relatively easy going guy, my redneck, for the most part.

Under normal, non-CeeLee related circumstances, I have it from several reputable sources that my guy’s actually much more expansive when asked other questions, and can even be a veritable wealth of information at times, I’ve seen it myself.

He’s generally a well mannered redneck until asked that one question.

“Hun, what are you thinking about?”

Such a simple, unassuming and innocent question really, not one that anyone expects to be the spark that ignites the flames of exaggerated sighs and statements such as,

“Why can’t you just ask whatever it is and be done with it?  Why do you always ask that?”

He’s the type redneck who much prefers I cut to the chase and eliminate the foreplay.

See and I know that, which is why I ask it when I want to needle him for some grievance or another. Because I know it drives him to wish for a bigger man cave.

One I’m not allowed in due to my gender and my lack of having  ‘nads’, as my duckling just informed me. Thanks kid, I’m so glad to know that. Neither do you. Yet.

He prefers to cut out all the foreplay of conversation making

The beauty of which lies in the very simplicity of my knowing it makes him nuts and because he hasn’t yet figured out that the question in question, is just my way of opening the conversation just makes it so much more fun.

Instead of asking him what I want to know, like “What plans do you have today?”, I ask that and sit back and watch the show.

I suppose I should be nicer,  just come out and tell him something to the effect of  “I’m in a good mood to torture you today, I’m not sure why exactly, but watching you turn red from head on down just tickles me to no end, and you really should be thanking me right now for even warning you beforehand”.


I should, but then it just wouldn’t be the same.

If I hadn’t asked that, I wouldn’t be hiding now

My timing can be less than perfect, I blame my ADHD. You see, I chose poorly when I decided to ask that today, as he was just waiting to pounce on me, having gotten wind I might be contemplating such a thing, possibly from my nad bearing duckling, who’s allegiance is to the very man now trying to bury me alive in mulch.

If you don’t hear from me again this weekend, check the mulch pile, I’m probably there.



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