I'm married to the Ultimate Denia-nator.

I am married to the biggest denial hound in the world (MAYBE the Universe). Whatever happens in my house, my husband is the first to say, I didn't do it. It wasn't me. Or, some form thereof. Most of the time, I can't even get out the full accusation before a NOT ME! is hurled in my direction. And, hey, guess what? We are the only two human species that live here! If it wasn't me, is it wrong of me to assume that it is the only other thing with opposable thumbs living here?!? I think not.

Previous conversations have included the likes of:

Since you drove my car last night, where did you put my keys?
Dunno, didn't have them.

Who has been using my towel?!?!
I didn't do it!

Who drank that case of beer and ordered all that Pay-Per-View Porn?!?
Wasn't me.
(Ok. Ok. I made the last one up, but, heh heh...)

Sometimes he'll even try to throw our friends under the bus in order to save himself.

Who were those skanky blond Ho's you were talking to?
UH...Wasn't me, Dennis told me to!

(Ok. I made that one up, too, but you get the point.)
(They were really brunette.)
(Sorry, Dennis, but you know it's true...)
(er, the throwing under the bus part, not the skanky Ho part)

Anyway...

I don't know what has caused this in my husband? Possibly living a life with a bullying younger sister who always got her way while my husband always got blamed to the point of an eventual cat-like nail fight and fork stabbing? (Hey, I'm not judging, I'm just sayin' a dose of therapy and psychotropic drugs all around may have been helpful in THAT family...). But this behavior is now quite concerning since we have a little one on the way. Because, I can tell you right now, I absolutely CANNOT handle two people screaming at me "I DIDN'T DO IT!" when they break my prized vase because they were throwing a football in the house when I told them not to. (OK, that was really a Brady Bunch episode, but hey, it can happen).

Today's Ultimate Denianator episode:
Background: On Wednesdays, I get to "sleep in" because the store opens late. I use "sleep in" loosely, because after not being able to get comfortable all night, having a "starving" cat b*tching at you outside your door at 6 a.m. and then the dog taking his cue to lick a face (helloooo...like I didn't know that you've been doing the pee-pee dance on my head since 4:35 a.m.?!?!), well, it really isn't sleeping in.

Today, I make my way into the kitchen to make some toast and SQUISHY SPLAT, I step on a sopping wet rug in front of the kitchen sink. I mean, this was no OOPS, I dropped a cup of coffee on the rug. This was soaked and pooling onto the tile all around. This could mean one of two things:
1. Ms. Princess Kitty Pee (NOT to be confused with the other one, has decided, yet again, to "bless" us with her ability to pee on every rug and item we have in our house (which is why we have a house full of hardwood floors AND ABSOLUTELY NO AREA RUGS. It's a good look, especially in a formal dining room), OR
2. That slow drip, drip, drip under the sink has finally caught up with us.

I pad away on my "morning off" to find the Ultimate Denianator (UD).

ME: So, did you happen to notice that the entire kitchen was flooded when you got up this morning?!? (Yes, I certainly have a flair for the dramatic).
UD: HUH?!?!
ME: Kitchen. Rug. Flooded. (UD follows me back into kitchen)
ME: (picking up the soaked rug) Uh, you didn't notice this when you came in to make coffee this morning?!?
UD: NO!
UD: I only made coffee!
UD: I didn't even go near the sink! (FYI-the coffee maker is RIGHT NEXT TO THE SINK)
UD: I didn't even turn on the light!
Me: *sigh*