Apparently I should not try to communicate with my husband when I have been in pain and have taken painkillers to alleviate aforesaid pain. The other night my husband and I decided to call it a night and put down our iPads to cease our internet surfing and shut off the lights. I was not laying there long when I decided I needed to go to the restroom. I made it to the restroom down the hallway safely in the dark, and then made my way back to bed. I was almost there when my foot bumped into something, jamming one of my toes. I immediately begin to cuss, hop around on one foot and inform my husband that *now* would not be a good time to ask me if I am ok.
My husband wisely listens to me and decides not to comment until I had managed to get in bed and position myself so I was able to again consider going to sleep. Naturally, he was curious about what I had bumped into and asked me what it was. To which I replied:
"Uh, you know, it's that dirt picker upper thing."
The bed starts vibrating with his silent laughter, as he asks: "You mean the vacuum sweeper?"
"Yeah, yeah.... whatever." I answer.
My husband managed to control his laughter for a few minutes and as we are laying there in the dark, he asks me another question.
"Why aren't you using that thing to sleep with?"
"What thing?" I ask.
"You know, the neck propper upper thing."
Uggh.. good thing neck propper upper thing was not in the bed or he would've been thumped on the head with it.
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2 comments:
Actually, in the interests of accuracy, you didn't call it a "dirt picker-upper", you called it a "dirt sucker-upper". I countered by suggesting it was the "vacuum cleaner" or did you mean the "air whoosher". lol
I am *still* laughing... :)
Well, golly - thx for clarifying 'that dude I married' =)
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