The local classical station was describing Romeo and Juliet yesterday. I wasn't really interested until they said something about a "bedroom scene." That got my attention. I grinned at Rachel: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Yes," said Rachel. "I need to look up my grandparents' address."
--
Along the same lines, Rachel says she can tell when I am really sick when I lose interest in sex. I can tell when Rachel is really sick when she loses interested in cleaning.
--
Friday I wore a white T-shirt to work. I don't have very many white shirts because they show stains much better than black ones. Between myself and my kids a white shirt's half-life is about a week.
Friday Rachel gave me spaghetti leftovers to take for lunch.
You can see where this is going, can't you? Yes, I got some sauce on my shirt. But resourcefully I scrubbed it out with hand soap! Super-husband saves the shirt!
I was rather pleased with myself. When I got home I told Rachel, "you can't even see where I spilled the sauce!" She looked a little closer and pointed, "There." She was right. I was a little crestfallen.
"That's okay," she comforted me. "I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said anything. And I'm sure any man wouldn't notice at all."
No comments:
Post a Comment