There’s simply no other explanation for this post.
Despite the tightrope-walk-over-a-wormhole-containing-a-million-shrarknados that is my work life, my mornings are fairly routine: I wake up to the alarm clock’s warning, peel the dog off my legs, carry her downstairs so she can evacuate her TARDIS-like (tiny-yet-bigger-on-the-inside-bowels), carry her back upstairs, plop her on the bed and tell the wife to stay asleep while I get ready for work.
Naturally, I know VampireLover will ignore me, so the clock begins ticking, Jack Bauer style, while I get myself ready to face the hordes of travelers waiting for me. But before I know it, that familiar creak begins to emanate from the upper staircase (a ninja could never live in a 10-year-old house), and the bathroom door flings open.
And the thrill ride that is my union begins to unfold again.
VL: (Upon seeing the sink.) Hey, Skippy! You used way too much shampoo for a guy with no hair!
ME: (Otherwise known as “Skippy”.) My name’s not Skippy, it’s the Hook. And hey, I have hair! It’s ridiculously short, shaved in fact, but I have hair! And how do you know how much shampoo I used?
VL: I hate “The Hook”! I didn’t marry “The Hook”. And for your information, I can see all the suds left in the sink… Skippy.
ME: What, all of the sudden you’re Columbo?
VL: Columbo was a boy… Skippy.
ME: Fine. What, all of the sudden you’re Mrs. Columbo?
VL: You’re –
ME: An idiot, I know.
VL: Rude, is more like it.
ME: You have to admit, I keep your life interesting. Without me, you’d be just another desperate housewife, forced to sniff paint fumes just to stave off mind-numbing depression. Either that, or you’d be watching Kardashian TV shows until your brain melts.
VL: Do you hear yourself sometimes? And no, a vampire would keep my life interesting. And sexy.
ME: Twenty years of marital bliss and suddenly I’m not good enough?
VL: That’s not true.
ME: Aw, thanks, hon.
But I spoke too soon…
VL: You were never good enough. I just wanted to get out of the house.
ME: And they say romance is an antiquated notion in this day and age.
VL: Romance? More like convenience!
ME: Glad I could be convenient. I’m like the 7-11 of marriage… I’m open for business 24/7.
VL: (Giggling in that schoolgirl laugh that still makes my teeth tingle after twenty-plus years.) But you don’t have Slurpees!
ME: Nice! No wonder I love you despite your obvious hatred for me. And your tendency to beat on me with flicks to various body parts, noogies, wedgies, wet willies and other childish physical attacks.
VL: I don’t hate you, Skippy.
ME: I always suspected that, despite the obvious evidence to the contrary, of course.
VL: I just love bugging you. Now get to work and make me some money!
ME: I am your humble servant… named Skippy.
See you in the lobby, kids…