Eric and I were in the kitchen the other night, he
rummaging around in the catch-all drawer while I was standing in the doorway
thinking of scouring pads and abrasive cleaners, when we had one of those
moments that every couple who have been together for a long time has: one person speaks their interior monologue
while the other person selectively miss-overhears what is spoken.
Eric: “Something,
something, something…biscuit rain.”
Me (Snapping out of my trance): “Biscuit rain? Is that anything like acid rain, but with
biscuits?”
Eric: “I said, ‘There’s
that biscuit ring. Not biscuit rain.’”
Me (Disappointed): “Oh. But wouldn’t biscuit rain be cool?”
Eric: “Polluting our
atmosphere with unnaturally high levels of buttermilk?”
Yeah, he went there.
And I love him for it.
1 comment:
Something Something cathead
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