May. 15th, 2016

loaded_march: (loaded march)
I was making breakfast this morning when I had a few minutes of waiting before everything was ready.  My back was sore so I laid down on the kitchen floor.  The Spouse walks in and makes a face.

"Why are you lying down on the dirty floor?"

"My back is stiff and it's not dirty."

"When was the last time you swept it?  Months ago, right?"

"Try yesterday after the muffin experiment."

The Spouse scoffed.  "You didn't do a good job.  You missed a spot."  He pointed.

I turn my head to look.  There was a black speck, all right, and it was moving away from me.  I look back at the Spouse and said, "That's not dirt.  It's a spider."

"Nope," the Spouse said, taking a step away from the kitchen.  "Let me know when it's gone.  Don't let my breakfast get cold."

"You fucking pansy," I shouted after him, getting up to catch the spider.  "Fuck's sake.  When did I become the big bad spider slayer?"

He stuck his head back into the kitchen and said, "Years ago, when you made me watch Arachnophobia over my very strenuous protests, promised to keep me safe, and part of the way through, pointed out that there was a giant fucking spider building a web over my head."

"Oh, yeah," I said, because I'd forgotten.

He kissed my cheek and backed right out.  "Go forth, my brave warrior.  Try to keep the carnage to a minimum.  We don't want a noise complaint.  Oh and don't let the hash browns burn."



He's such a dork.  It's times like these I'm glad I married him.
.

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