“It’s raining,” I told Gene, as we watched the rain stream down the window last night. I am helpful like this.
“Yes,” he said.
“I’m wearing your best sweatshirt,” I said, continuing my campaign of stating the obvious. “You only get to wear your second-best.”
“Yes,” he said.
“That’s love,” I said.
“That’s theft,” he corrected patiently. We watched the rain for awhile.
“I was going to wash the car this year, but now I’m so glad I didn’t,” I said, indicating the rain.
“Yes, that’s very lucky,” said the best husband ever, shivering slightly in his inferior sweatshirt.