My wife and I were out during the day – just the two of us, a little ways from home. Far enough to recognize the squirrels looking different. Shifty. Secretive. Near Ann Arbor, those squirrel bastards do a great job convincing us they’re up to no good. Spitting acorns in the direction of a local pizza shop, “Okay, we’ll go. Pizza sounds good anyway.”
Fuckin’ squirrels. We do love us some pizza, though, my wife and I. The fresher the better, hot from a wood burning oven. Goes well with a salad most days, so we ordered both and sat down far away from the forest animals.
When the food arrived, some toppings weren’t to my wife’s liking, and some were not to my liking. So, we did what married people do – we turned the bowl so that the cut up pepperoni and olives were on my side, and the tomatoes and peppers were on her side. We thumb wrestle over the cucumbers.
The pizza wasn’t as complicated, and it felt good to relax. The kids wouldn’t have been impressed, we agreed. And then she said,” You know, I like… that you know what I like to eat.”
All husbands should remember this as a wonderful compliment to your relationship. Pay attention. Commit her salad topping preferences to memory.
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