I married my husband because a.) he made me laugh; b.) he liked to do the dishes, c.) he got a 100 percent approval rating from all four of my brothers and d.) he was as weird as I was.
Okay, so there were other reasons. He was kind of cute. He liked to go shopping. To malls. He was cheaper than I was. And oh yeah, there was that little thing called love.
But the item lettered "a.)". That was the biggie. He always made me laugh...without trying. Still does. In fact, after 30 years, just when I was pretty sure I'd heard all of his stories, he comes through with another zinger. This came up last night as we were traipsing from the coffee shop to the grocery store. Something about a tarantula and some bananas. He says if I don't believe him, I can ask his brother, Rudi. But you see, that's the problem. I tend not to believe Rudi either. They're two of a kind.
Anyway, so there was a big spider and a relative stepped on it and that's all I'm allowed to say. In fact, I've told more than I was supposed to.
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