(My husband and I are both big fans of the collective works of Joss Whedon. On the way to work, I’m watching out the window as my husband is driving. We often see geese on the grassy area to the side of the road, but this morning I see something new.)

Me: “Oh, my God, goslings! They’re so cute; I want to juggle them!”

Husband: *snorts* “I don’t think they’d appreciate that.”

(We ride for a little while in silence, and then I start singing a song I’ve got stuck in my head.)

Me: “…shiny new Australia!”

Husband: “Ha! You went from goslings, to Firefly, and worked your way over to Dr. Horrible didn’t you?”

Me: “Yup.”

Husband: “Two bodies—”

Me: “—one mind.”

(I’ve just been really silly with my husband. Sometimes I speak quietly, and he can’t hear me.)

Me: “Are you sure you are okay with my crazy?”

Husband: “Am what?”

(I thinking he didn’t hear.)

Me: “Are you sure you’re okay putting up with my crazy?”

Husband: “What now?”

Me: “Are you sure—” *catches on* “—dumb-a**.”

Husband: “I’m okay with it, especially since I’m the cause for most of it.”

Related:
Cause And Defect

(My boyfriend and I have just moved in together, and our new apartment has spotty wifi in some rooms. I have been the go-to ‘IT girl’ my whole life, with sort of a magic touch for technology.)

Boyfriend: “Ugh, the wifi’s out again.”

Me: “What? Let me see.”

(I walk over.)

Boyfriend: “Yay! It’s back up! Thank you, wifi fairy!”

Me: “Wifi fairy?”

Boyfriend: “Yeah, you’re the wifi fairy from the Router’s castle in the land of the Internet! You bring the wifi with you wherever you go!”

Me: “You’re nuts; I love you.”

Boyfriend: “Oh, s***. It froze. Now I have to summon the IT princess. Wifi fairy, can you contact the land of the Internet, and ask them to send the IT princess, please?”

Me: “Sorry, dude, your princess is in another castle.”

(My husband calls me on his way home from work. He knows that I’m feeling quite sick, and that it is possibly the flu.)

Husband: “Hey, how are you feeling?”

Me: “Ugh. Let’s see… death warmed over would be a step up.”

Husband: “And after that is death freshly cooked?”

Me: “Yes, death freshly prepared with a nice side salad.”

Husband: “We are not ‘death eaters’ in our home, young lady!”