THE SWEET SMELL OF “YOU SUCK”

Here it is 5:00 in the morning and it’s cold and dark outside, but damn, I felt like such a sniveling ass about the prior post that I climbed out of bed prepared to take the post down.

Thank you for humoring me, even if you didn’t agree with my shortsightedness. I warned you that I tend to overreact and puff and strut over things that really aren’t puffable or strutable.

Let’s move on, shall we?

Why is it that your husband has to breath on you in the middle of the night? I can’t lay facing away from him all night so I turned and he turned and there he was, open-mouth breathing. Blech. I tried arranging the sheets and my pillow to block his breath from wafting directly towards me, to no avail.

I rolled back over and and he flung out his arm across my waist. It got harder to breath so I moved his arm to my hips and that’s when his wee male brain, even in his sleep, made him think that was foreplay. That’s when I got out of bed to check your emails.

Wait? Didn’t I originally say I was worried about your reactions? Right, right, I was. Really. Of course I wasn’t avoiding my stinky-breathed husband…who also informed me last night that he even cut his toe-nails “wink wink nudge nudge”.

Ahhh, smell the romance. That is if you can over the faint aroma of morning breath.