James is laying on the couch feeling under the weather after a long weekend of driving, working, and not a lot of sleeping. He insists I come in the room to help him with something (which turns out just to be a facade to try to make me lay on the couch with his sickly self). He gets a grip on the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt that I’m wearing over my pajamas, forcing me to stay put. I fight him off, insisting I have just one more email to attend to in the other room, but this does not deter James. Oh no.
He pulls harder and nearly yanks me over the back of the couch, but I am a spry little son of a gun, and in one fell swoop I manage to squirm completely out of my sweatshirt and run into the kitchen laughing… leaving him with nothing but an empty oversized sweatshirt in his hands.
He is clearly impressed by my maneuver and laughs in return.
I do a little victory dance in the kitchen.
To which he replies, “One of us is bound to die early. We’re being set up. Nobody has it this good for life.”
. . . . .
Ummm… WHAT?! My husband… ever the optimist.haha…