My husband still makes me laugh.
Every day.
However, I don't really think much of anything is funny at 6:30 a.m.
People who aren't around him much or
don't know him very well think he's quiet.
don't know him very well think he's quiet.
Now that's really funny,
Sometimes I don't think he's ever going to quit talking.
Especially in the morning.
When we're in the bathroom at the double sinks.
Getting ready for work.
And he wakes up and instantly
feels like talking.
I don't.
I don't.
I usually only answer with some sort of grunt, groan,
or body language.
(You might as well know now...I am NOT a morning person.)
Sometimes I use my eyes to talk.
That only encourages him more, unfortunately.
He often decides to morph into one of his many
impersonation transformations
at that time.
So not only do I share the space with him, but
quite possibly with
Ross Perot,
Barney Fife,
India Guy,
Sean Connery,
or a multitude of other morning bathroom crashers.
I'm pretty sure he delights in the challenge of trying to produce
at least a small smile from me before I leave the bathroom.
That's why I wasn't happy when I was channel-surfing
the other day, and inadvertently stopped for just a few minutes
on Sling Blade,
before realizing the repercussions of my action.
"Mornin', uh huh.
When are yuh goin' to make 'em biscuits?
Maybe some french-fried potaters, uh huh.
Reckon I'll have some of the big un's."
Growl.
Next time I'll be stopping on
a Marcel Marceau movie.
Seriously.
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