(My husband and I are observing how long and slender my fingers are.)
Me: “Look, even my thumb is slender, it looks like a normal finger! I should be a hand model.”
Husband: “Yeah, go for it babe.”
(I Google how to become a hand model on my phone and find out I have to have near perfect fingernails and cuticles to do it. My fingernails are notoriously ragged looking.)
Me: “Well, there goes that career idea.”
Husband: “I just thought of something. If you can’t be a hand model that means you won’t be getting any hand jobs.”
(Cue me dissolving into a fit of laughter over the worst joke in the history of the world.)
(I am going back to school, and am in a tough anatomy course. This happens when we are doing yardwork. I had just something down the outside of my ankle.)
Me: *insert colorful profanity*
Husband: “Are you okay? What did you hurt?”
Me: “That thing just scraped my right lateral malleolus.” *continues swearing*
Husband: “Honey, I need that in English, not in Medical.”
Me: “My right outside ankle bone” *swear words* “I can put weight on it, so I think it’s fine, but it hurts like a son of a b****.”
Husband: *laughing* “Okay, I’m glad you’re okay.”
(My husband and I just landed in Amsterdam and are waiting for our luggage. The luggage belt did not start moving yet, so we just sit there and talk. Note that we travel quite a lot together and my husband actually works for an airline.)
Me: *looking at the belt as it slowly starts to move* “I wonder who is the lucky b*****d who always gets his luggage first. It’s the people in Business Class, right?”
Husband: “No, it’s pure luck. It depends what luggage comes out of the plane first.”
(As we sit there and wait, the first suitcases appear and, lo and behold, the very first two suitcases are ours.)
Husband: “Well, that certainly determines who the ‘lucky b*****d’ is.”
(I am cuddling with my girlfriend. We just finished watching a video that showed lightning in slow motion.)
Me: “I don’t like lightning.”
Girlfriend: “I actually think it’s really cool.”
Me: “Oh, I don’t mind it as long as I’m safe, but the way it works is not good.”
Girlfriend: “Yeah, the science of it is really weird.”
Me: “I don’t know much about the science. It just annoys me that it starts on the ground and goes up.”
Girlfriend: “Wait, it does what?”
(I later looked it up and it’s more complicated than that, but I didn’t know at the time.)
My boyfriend has an incredible habit of messing up our bedding to an astounding degree, though he will never admit to it.
We both work nights, but one day I have a midday interview, so I leave him to sleep through it. The covers were relatively in order when I departed.
By the time I get home, our duvet is upside down on top of him, and when I try to flip it over I find that the insert is now balled up in the center of the cover.
And just to add insult to injury, while I was sorting out the duvet, he balled up the sheets, too, and hugged them to his chest in his sleep where I couldn’t get at them!