Me: I’ve got chocolate on my pants.
Austin: It’s fine. I’m sure it will wash out.
Me: Chocolate belongs in my mouth, not on my pants.
Me: I’ve got chocolate on my pants.
Austin: It’s fine. I’m sure it will wash out.
Me: Chocolate belongs in my mouth, not on my pants.
Austin: This bridge smells good. Is that weird to say? This bridge has wood for me.
Austin couldn’t get the grill to work.
Austin: I’m going to try again and make sure I’m not having a blond moment. After 12 years of marriage, I’m used to feeling stupid.
Me: Then I’ve done my job.
The cabin was making noise.
Me: It’s haunted.
Austin: It’s probably the wood adjusting to the temperature change.
Me: Yeah, that’s more realistic than a teenager getting drunk and drowning in the hot tub, then becoming a ghost obsessed with s’mores.
Me: I’m glad I brought a roll of Charmin. At first, I was using theirs, but the off-brand toilet paper really chafes after a use or two.
Austin: Their toilet paper is crap.
Me: I can’t wait to get to the cabin. I’m going to stuff my face with all the stuff we bought from Alfonzo’s.
Austin: I can’t wait to turn on Murder, She Wrote.
Austin: Both lamps in the living room are getting old. The black one needs pliers to turn it on and off and the switch on the other one doesn’t work anymore.
Me, placing a hand on Austin’s back: I like to use things till they die.
Austin: I don’t like the ominous way you said that.