When I got up this morning my Beloved Curmudgeon and I were talking about nothing in particular when he said, ‘Why did you write reasonably happy?’‘Huh?’, I asked with my usual stunning brilliance.

‘Reasonably happy [emphasis on reasonably]. Why’d you write that we have a reasonably happy marriage?’, he rephrased.

I realized he was talking about this blog. ‘What word should I have used?’, I asked, making a mental note to myself to only write very nice things about him on the blog.

‘How about ecstatically happy?’ He suggests.

‘Ecstatically?’, I laughed.

‘Well, maybe not ecstatically ….’ he hesitated a nano-second. Then jokingly asks, ‘Aren’t you estatically happy?’

[Note to self: don't laugh when husband says to describe marriage as 'estatically happy'.]

‘I wanted it to sound more or less believable’, I said. ‘Would you describe our marriage as estatically happy?’ I laughed again.

‘You are messier than I am, by the way.’ He suddenly gets to the point and says this as fact.

I looked at him astonished. No he didn’t just say that! [note to self: don't laugh a second time over the idea of an 'estatically happy' marriage].

‘Oh, I am? Who washes your clothes, who washes your dishes? You empty trash cans, but you don’t clean.’ Clever retaliation, don’t cha think?

I start thinking about the comments in the previous post, the ones about what we really think when we are mad at our husbands. Y’all know what I mean!

‘Who mows the lawn? Who blows off the decks?’ He says. Not regular chores I think, squinting at him in a feeble attempt at ‘the look’. A completely wasted effort because he didn’t notice it.

The marriage is getting less ecstatically happy by the second.

I can’t tell you how this scintillating conversation ended. Something else caught our attention and it just kinda petered out.

Sigh …

So, to set the record straight. We have an ecstatically happy marriage and I’m a bigger slob than he is. [read this dripping with sarcasim].

All in fun - Love ya hun.