The other night Jeremy slipped into bed after putting a long day in somewhere. He claims it was at work, but I have my doubts. The grass stains on his dockers and the golf clubs in the back of the truck were a dead giveaway. Busted. So anyway, as he laid down next to me I see a confused look cross his face.
Jeremy: What IS that? (Jumping out of bed and ripping the covers back to inspect his side of the bed)
Me: Oh, yeah, that. I let Henry eat a blueberry muffin this morning. On yourside of the bed.
Jeremy: .... (saying nothing, just giving me a disaproving look while dramatically swiping crumbs from the bed)
Fast forward to five minutes later, after all the crumbage had been swept away and Jeremy's comfortably nestled in bed...
Me: Um, Lover? Would you mind scratching my back? I'm all itchy tonight.
Jeremy: .... (again, saying nothing and probably giving me another disaproving look in the dark)
Jeremy: Why don't you just roll around on the crumbs? It could be like one of those exclusive treatments you have done at a spa only your muffin will do all the work.