Tuesday, April 29, 2008

When good husbands go bad

I lie awake, my body sore from my FIRM fitness class. The title of the class is misleading. It should be called LUNGES since that's all we do. Lunges make me want to die because that's the only thing that will make my quadriceps stop shaking.

"Dearest husband?" I ask the DNB. "Will you massage my legs? They're so sore I can't get comfortable."

"No," he says, his back to me. "But I'll fart on them."

And I just have to pause because THAT IS SO NOT HELPFUL.

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