As I so often do, I was talking to Chris while he was in the shower. We were arguing about FEMA's response time in regard to finding housing for hurricane survivors. Apparently, Carnival Cruises approached the government on Tuesday with an offer to charter three of their ships for housing purposes. FEMA didn't get back to them until Saturday. I think this is a shameful example of bureaucracy gone bad -- I just don't believe that they couldn't have shut 4 guys in a room and told them that they couldn't come out until they sorted out places to sleep for everyone.
Chris says I need to cut them more slack, and they really couldn't do it any faster because they've never had to deal with a tragedy of quite those proportions.
At this point, I was over it, done doing my hair, and really didn't care anymore. "You're right," I said, and walked out of the bathroom.
For the next 10 minutes, Chris couldn't stop asking if I was mad, or what he could do to make it better, and am I sure that I'm not mad, and what's wrong?
He just got creeped out because he's never seen me give up that easily.
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