(I am a math teacher, and my husband is a bookkeeper working on an accounting degree, so we both do a lot of math. We attend a conservative church where women are expected to stay quiet. The sermon is about prophecies.)

Preacher: “The prophets weren’t like people today who make guesses about what might happen. For example, a weatherman might say it’s going to rain tomorrow. Well, he has a 50% chance of being right. It’s either going to rain, or it’s not.”

(I bite my tongue. My husband holds my hand.)

Preacher: “…and they might say the rain will start at three. And they’d have a 50% chance of being right, because the rain might start then, or it might not.”

(I hold my husband’s hand tight enough to leave fingernail marks, and start rocking in place. After the sermon, on the way home…)

Husband: “I can’t believe you managed to not say anything. Go ahead. Release the rant.”

Me: “That’s not how math works! Just because there’s two possibilities, it doesn’t make them equally likely!”

(I continued my rant all the way home. Now it’s a joke between us. If one of us asks what the chances are of anything, the other always answers “50%.”)

(My husband and I are taking advantage of the kids being asleep to get intimate. Having not folded laundry in a week, we’ve accumulated a pile of it, which we have pushed off the bed first. We’ve just gotten naked and are now on the bed. I am face-down.)

Me: *coquettishly* “Now what are you going to do to me?”

Husband: *whisper-laughing* “Make you fold the laundry.”

Me: *laughing* “And they say romance is dead!”

(My husband and I have decided to try for a baby. Due to a medical issue, I have never been able to take hormonal birth control, so we’ve always used other methods. This takes place when we are getting intimate, and I am very sleep-deprived after a long week at work.)

Me: “Wait, wait, babe. Slow down.”

Husband: *pulls away from me, confused* “What’s up?”

Me: “We almost forgot.” *begins rummaging in the bedside cabinet*

Husband: “What are you looking for?”

Me: “A condom. Are we out?”

Husband: *pauses* “Think about that for a minute.”

(I am a minor, flying alone on a plane. My mom was with me until I got onto the plane, and I am meeting my dad when I land.)

Dad: “Mom seemed a bit stressed out today.”

Me: “Really?”

Dad: “Yeah, it was very easy to mess with her.”

Me: “What did you do?”

(My dad shows me a text conversation with my mom.)

Mom: “The app says she’s landing.”

Dad: “Already?”

Mom: “The plane was supposed to land in five minutes! If she arrives in the airport alone she’ll get lost! Where are you?!”

Dad: “Just messing with you; I’m at the gate.”

Mom: “…”

Mom: “Jerk.”

(A week ago, my son and I shaved our heads bald for cancer research fundraising. Tonight, my husband, son, and I go grocery shopping.)

Husband: “Do either of you need shampoo?”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “I don’t think so, hon.”

Husband: *quiet for a moment* “Body wash, then?”