Husbands say the darndest thangs.
After I'd been complaining for a probably not that long amount of time about a near-death experience I had on a charter bus, leaving me with a bruise the size of Africa on my back that made everything 10x more difficult and painful:
Jeff: How bad is it on a scale of 1-10? Me: 1500 Jeff: --and if you take out the dramatic? Maddie:
In response to me step-touching to Like A Prayer in a steel welding shop:
Jeff: Knock that show choir shit off. Put it behind you.
After I bought a box of Kleenexes for the 5 hour drive to the cabin for the weekend:
Jeff: Only old ladies have full boxes of Kleenex in their car. Maddie: Old ladies AND people with allergies. Jeff: You do not have allergies. Maddie: I don't know what I have. Jeff: Puss-itis. There. I diagnosed you.