(I am 17 and my coworker is old enough to be my mother. One day her son, who is a little older than I am, comes to bring her lunch while I’m working. The next day…)

Coworker: “So, [Son] had a lot of questions about you last night.”

Me: “Questions? All I did was let him in the door.”

Coworker: “He thought you were real pretty! Wanted to know if I had your number in my phone.”

Me: “Was he disappointed when you didn’t?”

Coworker: *laughing* “He was. If we didn’t work together I’d be rooting for you, though. I know you’re not crazy like his last girlfriend.”

(The next week her son is in the office again and waggles his eyebrows at me, walking in my direction. Suddenly, my coworker reaches up and grabs his shirt collar.)

Coworker: “[Son], I never thought I’d have to tell you this, but you are not allowed to date MY coworkers!”

Boyfriend: *whispering* “I love you.”

Me: “I love you, too.”

Boyfriend: “Know why I whispered it?”

Me: *expecting something romantic* “Why?”

Boyfriend: “Because I’m lazy.”

(I promise I am usually not a stupid person, but for some reason on some days I have severe pregnancy brain, especially since hitting third trimester. I am at the supermarket with my husband, and we have to pick up — amongst other things — water and milk. We get to the water and he takes a pack of six big bottles, then we move on to get milk. In the aisle with the milk is also milk powder, and while I look at it a *genius* thought comes to my mind.)

Me: “Milk powder is actually really smart. You can carry it easily and you can get a lot of milk from it.”

Husband: “That’s true.”

Me: “I wonder if they will ever make that for water as well. Then I could buy it without you, because I could carry it on my own.”

Husband: “What do you mean?”

Me: “Well, just like milk powder, if they would dehydrate water and make water powder, then you could buy it at the store and at home, if you need water, then you just…” *at this point I realize that what I am about to say is not as smart as it sounded in my head just a minute ago* “…add water.”

(My husband looked at me not knowing what to say without making me feel stupid, so he just laughed, hugged me, and never spoke of it again.)

Related:
H2-Slow, Part 15
H2-Slow, Part 14
H2-Slow, Part 13

(My husband and I have been married for about six months and he is great at losing things, including his wedding ring a few times. Yesterday evening he was smoking chicken and ribs and decided to take his ring off and set it by the sink. Worried that it would be lost down the drain, I moved it to the pocket of my pajamas.  At one point I was seated on the couch and he decided to tickle me. After wrestling around I got up and walked away, only to put my hand in my pocket and find it empty.)

Me: “Honey? Um… I might have sort of lost something.”

Husband: “What did you lose?”

Me: “I may possibly have lost your wedding ring.”

Husband: “No you didn’t. I put it by the sink while I was cooking.”

Me: “Right… And I picked it up and put it in my pocket so that it wouldn’t get pushed down the drain.”

Husband: “It wouldn’t get pushed down the drain anyway. It was by the sink, not in it.”

Me: “On the edge. And with our luck, yes, it would have fallen down and I didn’t want you to lose it again.”

Husband: “So you put it in your pocket, and then lost it?”

Me: “That sounds accurate.”

(Since he had been tickling me, we immediately began pulling the cushions off of the couch. I was beginning to panic and became frustrated with myself when we couldn’t locate it. We went through every single cushion, with my husband holding it up and reaching his hand back while I shined a flashlight and checked underneath. Finally, he sat back laughing as I was on the verge of tears.)

Husband: “Honey… Stop. It’s okay.”

Me: “No! It’s not! I lost your ring.”

Husband: “No, you didn’t.”

Me: “It’s missing, and I last had it, so yes, I did.”

Husband: “No, love. Look.”

(He then held his hand up, with a huge grin on his face. He was wearing his wedding ring. Apparently he had found it halfway through our search, slipped it on while I was checking under the couch, and then had me shine the light where he was feeling around in hopes that I would see he was wearing it. I was completely oblivious because I was so focused on checking the couch!)

(When my husband and I first got together he was in a lot of financial trouble. I helped sort out his finances and it was decided he needed to get rid of his car and buy a new one. He couldn’t get a loan at the time so I did and put the car in my name, which was also done to prevent any repossession from debt collectors, etc. We refer to this new car as his car and the car I already had as my car. We’re now married, his car is still in my name, and we have recently sold my car. Of course, Murphy’s Law, the week after selling my car the battery on his car goes kaput. He has to bike ride to the local auto store to get a new battery. Note: I regularly remind him (jokingly) that his car is in my name and is my car.)

Husband: “You should be doing the bike riding. I have to work tonight.”

Me: “It’s not my car!”

Husband: “Oh really? REALLY? It’s not your car is it? Can I have that recorded?”

Me: “Wait… No! It’s MY CAR! The registration is in MY name!”

Husband: “Registration does not prove ownership.”

Me: “The registration in my name means if you run off with a younger woman I can have you arrested for stealing my car.”

Husband: “Oh, thanks! I run off with a younger woman and all you’re concerned about is the car?”

Me: “You run off with a younger woman and you’re on your own, buddy, but I want the car!”

Husband: “Well, you better hope there is no younger women at the auto store.”

Me: “Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?”

Husband: *putting on a mock sleazy voice* “Hey, baby, I might not have a car right now but I’ve got a sexy bicycle!”