(I work as a pharmacy technician and wear barcode stickers on my hands to easily identify myself to the computer. Today I forgot to take them off before picking my husband up from work resulting in obligatory “what would you cost if we rang you through the register?” jokes. Also important: we recently announced I’m pregnant.)

Husband’s Coworker: “I’m sure whatever you ring up for it would be too high for [Husband] to afford you.”

Husband: “It’s true. I got her on sale.”

Me: “It’s a two-for-the-price-of-one special.”

My husband and I have been married for almost ten years, and rarely go anywhere apart. Recently, I had to go away on a business trip for a week, and I joke to my husband that the people at the places we normally go to together will think he’s murdered me if they see him by himself. He jokes that I’m his impulse control so who knows what trouble he’ll get into.

The trip goes fine, with my husband telling me the first words out of most people’s mouths when they see him solo throughout the week are indeed “Where’s your wife?” When I get home, however, he confesses that less than an hour after dropping me off at the airport, he dropped a glass trying to toss it behind his back and catch it, something I have warned him away from doing previously, which shattered and cut a long line through his foot. It wound up bleeding profusely while he tried to clean up. He’s actually taken pictures of the aftermath, with the kitchen covered in blood and bloody footprints and broken glass. So, not only did he immediately hurt himself doing something silly as he jokingly predicted, he wound up making the place look like an actual murder scene in the progress. Why is it only our stupid predictions that come true?

(My husband comes to bed after I’m asleep. I halfway wake up.)

Me: “Did you see the baby mooses?”

Husband: “The what?”

Me: “The baby mooses. They were jumping through the fence.”

Husband: “Do you mean over the fence?”

Me: “No. Through the holes in the fence. And the kittens are riding their backs.”

Husband: “You have some weird dreams.”

(I am the author of this story – in which my female friends and family members and I will suddenly start talking about periods when a man is around, to make them leave when we want privacy. I am on the phone with a close relative in another state about time-sensitive travel plans and my husband keeps interrupting with things unrelated; worse, when I ask him to give me a few minutes on the phone, he starts pantomiming stuff he wants to say.)

Me: *into the phone* “So, [Husband] and I are thinking about trying to have a baby; I haven’t had a period in years, since having the IUD put in, but if I have it removed, that will start up…”

Husband: *gives me a funny look, walks out*

Me: *into the phone* “So sorry about that, hon.”

(We finish our conversation, hang up, and I go to find husband.)

Husband: “It’s a code, isn’t it? I didn’t catch it when it was you and Sis, but you start talking about REALLY private stuff when you are trying to get rid of me!”

Me: *burst out laughing* “What gave me away?”

Husband: *also laughing* “You were talking about your period, but I couldn’t hear [Relative]; your medical stuff is never an issue for me to talk about, but it just clicked that I hear about periods in your conversations with other people WAY more than in conversations we have.”

Me: “So, unless it’s something urgent, will you stop interrupting when I’m on the phone or having a talking to someone?”

Husband: “But, what if I might forget what I was going to say?”

Me: “Write it down?”

Husband: “That… makes a lot of sense, actually. And it means that I’ll never, ever have to hear about your sister’s period. Or your mother’s. Or any other relative or friend’s. Unless they are having some sort of medical problem or something.”

Me: “Exactly!”

Husband: “Deal!”

(I used to work in a hotel. We were never allowed to give out guest’s room numbers without checking with the guest first. One of our agents allowed a guests’ friends to get the room number and a key because they wanted to surprise them. Needless to say, the guests were livid to get to their room and have their friends there without their permission. They ended up getting their room comped and we all got read the riot act by our manager. Fast forward to present. A commercial comes on the TV. It’s a wife calling a husband from her business trip and says how much she misses him and the dog. The song “I’m Gonna Be (Five Hundred Miles)” comes on and we see the husband loading the car for a road trip with the dog. The wife comes to her room, puts in her key card, and opens the door. The dog comes running up to her and the husband is in the room.)

Me: “Wow, somebody’s going to get in trouble for letting him in the room.”

Husband: “Really? That’s what you got from that?”

Me: “Well, what did you get out of it?”

Husband: “How did he manage to sneak the dog in the room?”

(We’ve been married for thirty years and the romantic gesture of the moment escaped both of us!)