You MAY (probably not) get a double post from me today. But worry about that later, Reader. Right now, I want to share another bed time convo (or, rather, two rolled into one.) Over dinner last night, I decided that the reason I’m sharing these private, intimate conversations between me and my husband on my blog is so that when The Husband finally snaps, having enough of my shenanigans, and murders me**, the cops can look here and be all “Well, she really DID deserve it. She drove the dude crazy.” And then he’ll be allowed to live in a cushy mental institution somewhere. And maybe he’ll meet a pretty girl like Winonna Ryder or Halle Berry and they’ll heal and be able to start their lives over together. I mean, I don’t want him to go to jail for it because I instigate. I’m pretty sure its coming yet I continue to say things like this:

pterodactyl  cartoon

I found this picture of, what I can only assume is, an artist’s rendering of me and a pet pterodactyl.

Preface: I’m not sure how this conversation started, but I know I was trying to tell Jason something and he wasn’t listening. He then said something along the lines of “I’d like to have a wife who X” (I forgot what X was. X = wasn’t so annoying? X= can cook well? Not sure. But his insult is not the point.)

Me: Oh yeah? Well I’D like to have a HUSBAND who listens to me when I’m trying to talk to him, instead of ignoring me.

Jason: I’m not ignoring you. When did I ignore you?

Me: Last night!

Jason: Well, I’d like to have a wife who doesn’t ask me how big a brontosaurus’ head is.

Me: Whoa! You are way off base here, pal. I did NOT ask you that … last night. Last night, I was talking about whether or not I thought a pterodactyl would eat human eye balls, or if they’re just herbivores.

Jason: Fair enough. My apologies.

 

**Reader, I bet you’re sitting there and thinking to yourself, “Gee, I wonder if Heather ever forced Jason into a conversation about how he’d murder her, if he HAAAAD to, and, when he wouldn’t answer, she gave him several plausible scenarios, thus helping to plan her own murder.”  I’m going to go ahead and confirm that, yes that happened last night at dinner. If I’m not feeling lazy later, I will type it up for you, foiling all of Jason’s (my own) murder plans. Don’t get your hopes up. I’ll most likely forget.

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