RazorTongue's fury is upon me!

My oldest daughter wants to kill me. Verbally, that is. I've never heard her using that kind of tone against me before.

Yesterday, in spite of my killer cold, I did some laundry. Pale laundry, mostly white with the odd greenish, blueish, greyish and redish nuances thrown in between. That is something that usually works well.

But, of course, my germ infested brain didn't think twice as I stuffed the laundry in the machine. My wife had, just before I took the heap of clothes, thrown a fairly new towel on top of it. This towel was red-orange and for some reason my brain just didn't react to it.

An hour later, and to my horror, everything that once was white had turned... pink. Not your ordinary pink but a pink that screams out it's colour. All of RazorTongues underwear, all off her white socks, all of her "bra's", yes, every piece of clothing that had some white in it had turned pink.

Some of the results were actually pretty cool, like the grey t-shirt with white threads in it. The pink inbetween the grey was awesome. Some t-shirts looked brand new (good), others looked horrible (bad).

When I told my wife what happened, she laughed out loud and told me to suck it up, take the heat and did I remember that incident fifteen years ago when I accidently coloured her lovely white body, the one with the lovely lace and big price tag, in a skin-coloured pinkish brown nuance? This was my punishment for that incident. (I actually liked the new colour better. She looked naked all the time.)

So, the first time in fifteen years I make a mistake with the laundry, I have to face RazorTongues wrath all by myself. So much for "For better or for worse". (In Sweden the vow goes like "In distress or in lust". That's way cooler.)

I had to face the music. First I showed RazorTongue the pieces of clothing that actually had improved by being dyed in pink. She thought, just like me, that it was pretty cool although, which she pointed out to me, she hated pink. Then I showed the rest. Short version: I got a verbal flogging.

I'm so proud of her. She doesn't take shit from anybody and has no problem in speaking out her mind on things. In this case my alleged lack of brains.

You might think that an eleven (and a half) year old girl with pigtails shouldn't talk to her dad like that but I don't mind. I want her to be the strongest woman I can help her to be. If I get a verbal beating or two in the process then so be it.

After a while, when she had calmed down, she appologized for some of the things she said in fury. And a little later she cleaned out the bathroom.

My cold got both better and worse. Better in the way that I'm not sniffling as much and worse because the fluid behind my right eardrum has decided to stay. That's bad news since the outer ear now is all red, warm and swollen. It looks as if I've been boxing for a couple of years. The most annoying part is that it's so sore. I can't even touch it without it hurting. If it's not better in a couple of days I will have to cave in to the opposition (my wife) and visit a doctor. I hate doctors. No, I hate that they know things about me that not even I know.