You want to kiss me.

by Bella Rum

So H was getting ready to go to work yesterday morning. He was making his lunch. Yes, he makes his own lunch. He makes these ridiculously high-fiber wraps. The wraps alone have a bazillion grams of fiber. Then he loads them up with beans and raw stuff. Let’s just say I wouldn’t want to be in the truck with him all day. Whew!

Anyway, so he’s standing at the counter, making his lunch… which takes considerable concentration on his part. It’s more accurate to say that he builds his lunch. It’s quite elaborate and he takes his time. He’s a little sloooow. Okay, a lot slow. Then he begins the wrapping process, and it is a serious process. He folds it over in this crazy wrap technique and he can never make it reach because he always stuffs it with too much stuff. Then he gets the plastic wrap out…. which he cannot control. It’s like watching a painful Three Stooges’ routine with only one stooge. The first sheet always ends up in a crinkled mess.

I started picking at him and mooning over him and dancing around and giving Sandra Bullock’s little speech in Miss Congeniality. You remember…. “You think I’m gooorgeous… You want to kiiissss me.” Except I don’t look like Miss Bullock and he was in a hurry. Frustrated, he snapped, “I’m rushin’.” And I flipped back, “The only Russian I know is our daughter-in-law.”

This snappy repartee continued till he practically ran from the house. Let me just tell you that in the old days he would not have run from the house. There would have been a little somethin’ going on before he scrammed. What a scared-eee cat. And that was our morning. But he had to return sooner or later and when he did… there was no place for that boy to hide.

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