It was one of those mornings when my husband was lying in bed trying to go back to sleep while I was getting ready to go. The laundry was piled up and I was having trouble finding a shirt I liked because all my favorites were dirty and the ones that were left were either not comfy or Rob hates them. He frequently hates my clothes. I'm the worst dressed person in the universe. And, honestly, I'm not saying that because I have poor self-esteem. I really do dress dress badly. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you the same thing.
So I remark to him as he's lying there with his eyes closed pretending to be asleep, "Well, I'm sorry honey, but I'm going to wear this shirt you hate because I don't have anything else to wear."
He opens one eye and looks at the baggy orange shirt I'm waving around and mumbles, "Oh, how bout you just go au naturale?"
"Oh yeah, that'll be great for business. They'll be lined up out the door to see that. Good for the AMBULANCE business when everyone dies of fright and they have to come get them."
"Aw, sweetie, that's not true at all..."
Doesn't he do it just right? He understands how it works... the woman makes a disparaging remark about herself, then the man heaps compliments on her illustrating just how wrong she is and enumerating all the ways she is fabulous, wonderful and the only woman in the world worth having (for him).
I beamed. "Okay, well, you're right. I'm too hard on myself. They wouldn't die, but maybe just fall into a coma."
He nestled himself further under the covers, snuggling his fluffy pillow. "No, I meant, it wouldn't be busy because we have such a crappy ambulance service they would never get here."
"Oh, that's what you meant??"
He rubbed his face around in the pillow beaming with snuggle-satisfaction and emitted a muffled, "mmhmmmf."
"Thanks a lot."
"You're welcome," he said as he drifted off to sleep.
So, tomorrow the re-training begins!