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.


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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