(I wake up, he’s calling hogs–practically sucking the mini blinds off of the windows… I shake my head get up and start exercising)
HIM: (waking up) What are you doing on the floor?
ME: What does it look like I’m doing?
HIM: Well it looks like you’re either having a seizure or trying to rock yourself back to sleep.
ME: I’m exercising. And you need to see Ansari for a sleep study cause you’re snoring is really bad, and that’s not good.
HIM: I don’t snore.
ME: Have you ever wondered why Patrick never has to dust in here? Because you suck all the dust out at night.
HIM: No, It’s because you blow it out, talking on the phone with your friends about how great Michigan sports are or who killed Chuck on Desperate Housewives.
ME: I don’t talk about that. Everybody knows Orson killed chuck. It was obvious from day one.
HIM: Everybody doesn’t care.
ME: It’s not my fault you’re socially disconnected.
HIM: Yes it is. Everything is your fault, and I’m NOT socially disconnected. What’s for breakfast?
ME: Why are you asking me?
HIM: Cause you’re the wife, and you should make it.
ME: Okay fine. Patrick, could you make Robert breakfast.
HIM: I want you to make it.
ME: The people in hell want Ice water, and the Republicans want a candidate, people are wanting things all over town.
HIM: Come on make me French toast like you used to. You used to love to make me French toast.
ME: We’re out of eggs.
HIM: What? When we were young, you would have never been out of eggs on the weekend.
ME: When we were young I used to lay my own eggs.
HIM: Ewww… that visual… I’ll never want French Toast again.
ME: (thinking… okay my work is done here.)