I was working at my computer this morning, trying to write. It's been awhile since I've had time to do so-I'm surprised you're all still here, to be honest. My writing has been less than regular lately, as life has kinda taken over.
Actually it's not life, it's the fact that Hubs brought the motorcycle out of storage and every evening, during my prime writing time, he wants to ride. How could I say no to that?
John came in the room as I clicked away at the keyboard, and began stroking my head as if I were a cat in his lap.
"Nice wife..." he giggled and kept patting my head. I grabbed his hands and pulled him close so that he was hugging me from behind.
"Stop petting me like a cat."
"But I loooooove you," he wrestled a hand free and continued to stroke my bedhead.
"I love you too. But when you do that it makes me worried that you are getting old and senile."
He backed away suddenly, in a mock huff, and headed to the door.
"Getting old and senile, that's mean!"
"Wait!" I called after him, "I love you! I was joking! You are definitely NOT SENILE!"