in the shower over the weekend, I was singing.  this is really the only place I sing, other than to emma, who does not yet know the difference between good singing-which I am not-and bad singing-which I am.

my lovely husband came rushing into the bathroom and asked if everything was okay.

me:    of course everything is okay, why?

him:    I thought I heard one of the cats hollering in here

he’s so lucky I love him, otherwise I would have done worse than throwing water at him.

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