Last night I was once again banished to the Chamber of Farts: the guest bedroom where Wifey forces me to sleep when my digestive system decides that it wants to spew forth noxious gas time and time again for eight to twelve hours (which is pretty much every night). So I was pleasantly surprised that Wifey chose to enter my stank chamber early this morning for some snuggle time. Sadly it was NOT an early morning booty call, but it was pretty delicious that she braved the heavily scented C.o.F. to be with me before flying out to D.C. later in the morning.
Initial snuggles were followed by a failed attempts (by me) to turn the snuggle fest into something more, which was followed by chatting about the coming day and week. “What do you have planned today?” she asked. “Nothing much, I’d like to get a mountain bike ride in, but with you gone I might end up sticking closer to home.” We chatted a bit more and discussed how I could probably get in one big lap at MMCC and B would be OK. Then I farted, Wifey got pissed off, left the room, I confiscated the extra pillows, waved the eye watering stink away with the sheet and went back to sleep for another hour.
