Last night while I was making cookies with Michael, he got all flirty on me and decided to take charge Caveman Style.
He threw me over his shoulder! One swoop, and *plop* he had me. Only, it wasn't exactly romantic, because he has really broad shoulders (great if I wanted a shelf to drape myself over), and one of them ended up crammed into my gut.
I grunted and complained and protested in gasping barf-threats while he jogged me down the hall till he finally released me in a toss to the bed.
At least it ended with us both laughing!
Somehow, those romantic cliche things always seem to go bad for us--and we think it's hilarious. We really have to stick with our own brand of Romantic.
In other news:
The bunny is boinging in circles around my feet, and I thought it was perfectly adorable until just now I discovered a little pooplet by my ankle. Blech, Foofoo! I have a toilet for that kind of thing! I just might throw you back into your little stairs-cage in the snow!
(Speaking of pooplets, want to hear about my stinky morning?)