Trust Me, You'll Want Your Dead Goat Back...

Remember when I told you guys that I was feeling hyperactive and it was kind of like being tied to a chair and injected with speed and made to watch a documentary about sea snails?  That was yesterday.

Anyway, Boyfriend likes to think that he's being helpful by sending me riddles by email during the day.  His logic is that riddles are far more mentally stimulating than a documentary about sea snails.

Today, he sent me this riddle:

"When the day after tomorrow becomes yesterday, the day which would then be today will be as far from Sunday as the day which is yesterday when it's two days after that day's tomorrow... What day of the week was this spoken?"


Anyway, I sent him a threatening email, warning him that he should probably be alert when he first arrives home because I may or may not be lurking in a corner preparing to demonstrate what that riddle made my brain feel like.

I thought I had made myself clear, but apparently I had not, because first he sent me this email:

And then he sent me this email a few minutes later:

In response, I sent him one last warning:

This email was also kind of a sneaky way to test whether or not Boyfriend is a closet pervert.  If he sent me another math riddle, I'd know that he had some dildo-skull-raping fetish, and then we might have problems.

I was just starting to feel all relieved that he wasn't a pervert because he hadn't replied back to me with another math riddle, but then he walked through the door.  He was like "did you get my last riddle?"  He sounded really excited about it.   I told him that I had already responded.  He said "So did you get the answer?"  I told him to check his email.  I watched his facial expression change from exuberance, to confusion and finally to worry.   He said "You didn't like it?"

Me: "No.  Math is bad."

Boyfriend:  "But I thought you said that you needed more mental stimulation..."

Me:  "I meant like exploding trucks and Dance Dance Revolution."

Boyfriend:  "Oh.  Well, I -- Hey!  Did you eat the rest of the Cadbury Mini Eggs??!"

Me:  "Yeah.  You left them in the middle of the floor."

Boyfriend:  "I was saving them..."

Me:  "That's like leaving a dead goat in the middle of a tyrannosaurus's house and expecting it to still be there when you get back."

Boyfriend:  "Why would I want my dead goat back?"

Me:  "It's a matter of principle."

I don't know why Boyfriend thinks he can be all high and mighty sending me math riddles when he can't even grasp basic logic, like why the Cadbury Mini Eggs were rightfully mine and why you'd want your dead goat back after inadvertently abandoning it near a tyrannosaurus.