She Who Must Be Obeyed and I sat at the breakfast table, the scattered remnants of the Dutch Baby Pancake she had made cooling on our plates. I took one last pull on my coffee.
The Missus tossed her head, indicating the stairs in the back of the kitchen.
“Well, we might as well go and get this over with.”
We looked at each other.
She continued, “It’s always so much harder to do it again if you put it off.”
We looked at each other once more. This time I wore a sly grin.
“Are we thinking about the same thing?” asked The Missus.
“Aren’t we?” I said.
“You’re thinking about sex, aren’t you?” asked The Missus.
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”
“I was thinking about going to the gym.”
The Missus tossed her head, indicating the stairs in the back of the kitchen.
“Well, we might as well go and get this over with.”
We looked at each other.
She continued, “It’s always so much harder to do it again if you put it off.”
We looked at each other once more. This time I wore a sly grin.
“Are we thinking about the same thing?” asked The Missus.
“Aren’t we?” I said.
“You’re thinking about sex, aren’t you?” asked The Missus.
“Well, yeah. Aren’t you?”
“I was thinking about going to the gym.”
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