A story in which I am the worst girlfriend ever.

I spend a while going over every little piece of the mantle — as you can probably tell — when I turn to him and mumble “I don’t like your mantle”. He asks why and in a semi more coherent (as in I can’t repeat the real mumblings of my brain because I don’t even think a seasoned psychiatrist could wade through those waters) I explain to him the above flaws with having that mantle in this condo. I dig myself a nice little hole, and he keeps asking me about certain aspects – what I would different… and the hole deepens. I’m now neck deep in this little hole I dug myself. I bet you can guess where this is going.