Now that the huge editing project is complete, it’s time to get back to writing – but I’m taking a break this weekend. Today, I’m turning my sights on the heartthrob who stands at the stubhub (our stove with an ashtray on it) smoking a lovely cigar.
A day doesn’t go by without my husband giving me a reason to laugh. Many times, it comes via email. He works in an office and deals with massive amounts of money, much of it from government contracts. I feel I should include a disclaimer indicating that he is an intelligent man, and he is usually the adult in this relationship; however …
Every morning, he sends an email to me, and then usually one or two throughout the day. I was recently going to empty the deleted items in my email program, but thought I would go back and pull out some comments from my husband. Each of these gems comes from a separate email since June of this year. Parenthesis notes are mine.
There is always a sweet greeting:
Good morning, honey.
Good morning, my overheated princess.
Followed by some news regarding the overnight:
I will assume you slept well last night. I didn’t hear you stumble up to bed.
Did you sleep well with all the bugs, flies, birds, squirrels, and chipmunks coming in through the window? (I forgot to pull the screen down.)
His response the morning I woke up and couldn’t walk because my back was locked up:
I hate to tell you this, but I put a pea under the mattress before you came to bed last night. That’s probably why your back hurts. I wanted to see if you were still my princess. Now I know.
Sometimes there is news about the dog’s morning constitutional:
If he’s been eating less because there are no biscuits, then I’d say everything is normal. If you’ve been feeding him people food in place of biscuits, then maybe he’s got a couple of loaves hidden somewhere in the house.
He’s trying to eat healthier:
Honey, I had one burger and one small fry, and I felt like a friggin’ million bucks. Healthy sucks, shit food rocks.
It would be much easier to “eat to live” if all food tasted like cardboard.
Comment after he was alerted to the fact it was another day for him to find his own dinner:
Just when I am ready to give up on our relationship, you say something that draws me closer to you. Man I love you.
There may be commentary regarding the motorcycle:
(Weatherman called for rain – no rain.)
I knew I could have ridden to work today. Freekin’ dumbasses.
Our neighbor, Bill, is retired now:
You never answered me. How come? Is Bill there?
Give my vacation some thought. Write about it on your blog. Watch Bill mow the grass with his shirt off.
After the boss passed out sheriff badges with the company logo on them. Kitsch for trade shows:
I’m leaving on time tonight. I will be arriving in my cowboy boots, undies, and mah new badge!
A comment about one of my blog posts:
I just noticed only one blogger likes the tattoo story. See? People do NOT like tattoos. Only tattooed people like them! They are taboo and evil markings; which is why I need another one. Or two.
He worries about getting older and the strange tags and things which show up on his body:
I’m tired of all these ancillary do-hickeys growing all over me. I’m getting out the soldering gun when I get home.
He helps with the cleaning:
Don’t do any cleaning that will hurt your arms or your back. Leave that to me.
He always closes with something sweet:
I love you. Have a good day.
Have a good day, sweetie pie. Write a book. Read a book. Download a book. On your Nook. Put on a two-piece and go out and get some sun on Bill’s porch.
Hugs ‘n smooches!