Ever since Hurricane Katrina, I react very badly to loud noises, especially thunder.
My husband went to bed a while ago, and I stayed up. It just started thundering.
I was walking by the bedroom, listening to him softly snoring and trying not to wake him up, when there was a huge peal of thunder overhead. I made a little noise of distress.
He shot bolt upright in bed, blurted out "The thunder can't get in the house! I'm on the job!" then fell back in the bed and started snoring again.
I don't think he even woke up.
That's love, friends.
You've possibly seen me refer to my husband as The Worm Guy and muttered 'wtf' before scrolling on.
See, one day, the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. My husband looked out the window and sighed.
"Well, I guess I can go for a walk after all," he said, looking morose.
"But honey, " I said, "you like going for walks..."
"Yeah," he said. "But it stopped raining. So I'm going to spend my whole walk picking up worms from the sidewalk so they don't dry out and die."
"That is a very kind, very you thing to do," I said, still not getting why he was looking so glum.
"All the neighbors see me. And they all say 'Hey, there goes the Worm Guy!'"
Fast forward to today.
We have lots of different kinds of ducks here in Georgia. I can never remember their names, so I refer to them as 'regular ducks' and 'Dumb Headed Ducks.'
Because the Dumb Headed Ducks look like this:
Anyway. The Worm Guy comes home from his walk and says "I saw some ducks at the park!"
And I asked "Regular ducks? Or Dumb Headed Ducks."
And he turned to me, serious and frowning, and said, "You shouldn't call them that, you'll hurt their feelings."
I was hurt, friends. Because I am not a monster. I have manners. I would never call them dumb headed ducks to their face. That would be rude.
"The ducks aren't here, honey. They'll never know I call them Dumb Headed Ducks. And they probably don't speak English, anyway."
He shook his head and looked so disappointed in me. "You don't know that. Please don't call them that, please don't hurt their feelings."
And that, my friends, is why I married The Worm Guy. He is the kindest, most compassionate human I have ever met.
Conversations normal cat parents, parents of normal cats, never have:
Me: Honey, Scout is having an existential crisis again and needs lap time, but I'm having a bad pain day and my legs are killing me. Could you take over for a bit?
The Worm Guy: Come on Scout, let's go have anxiety in my office. I perceive you! You are perceived! Let's go be perceived elsewhere...
15 years ago, I met Jonathan. 8 years ago, we got married.
There have been ups and downs, but I wouldn't trade a minute of those years.
He's my best friend, my partner in crime, my hero. He's a hoopy frood who always knows where his towel is, and I love him.
We're celebrating our anniversary by setting up the 3D printer so we can learn its arcane magic and start making fabulous weirdnesses.
Happy anniversary, my love!
Me: Hey, husband! I was thinking...
Him: Oh no...
Me: You know how most last names are based on the professions of people's ancestors, or geographical locations?
Him: Sure.
Me: Well, I was thinking...
Him: Do I really want to know?
Me: ...about Reese Witherspoon. Witherspoon. WTF?
Him: Yeah, that's a tough one...
Me: Maybe her ancestor was a witch, who specialized in hexing kitchen utensils...
