He’s No Fun.

So The Boffin was giving his face a once over with a razor before his flight to Houston yesterday. I was hovering just outside the bathroom, and, given how easily my propensity is toward boredom, I decided to stretch a Pilates band over my nose and mouth and make kazoo noises.  Naturally, it had to ignite another one of our mock arguments.

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The Boffin exclaimed, “Would you stop trying to kill yourself?!?”

Me: “WHAT!? What am I doing?”

Really, this is on the milder end of my self amusement spectrum.

The Boffin: “You are like Roger Rabbit with the tool kit when he was sticking the file in his ear.”

Me: “You don’t understand.”

The Boffin: “What do you mean I don’t understand!?!? I just gave an analogy that describes your behavior perfectly!”

Me: “But you don’t get it at a deeper level!”

The Boffin: “Just because I don’t understand how tornadoes are formed exactly doesn’t mean I don’t know what do when the alarms go off!”

But can’t he chase the tornadoes sometimes to see what they feel like?

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