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Her: “My head hurts.”
Me: “Can you smell things? How’s your sense of smell?”
Her: “I smell things fine. Quit jumping to that conclusion. If I stub my toe, you aren’t going to take my temperature.”
Me: “But lack of coordination is a covid symptom.”
Her: “I hate this life! Go away.”

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From the mouths of babes

Her: What do you want for dinner?
Him: *something* *something* *9 1/2 weeks* *inappropriate* *something*
Her: Help me!
Him: What?
Her, holding up iPhone: Somehow, I don’t know how, it recorded that.
Him, grabbing iPhone sees an audio message sent to…Granny.
Him bolts out front door to see Granny fidgeting with her phone.
Him opens door to car and grabs phone.
Granny: I’ve never received an audio message before.
Him: I think it recorded silence.
13 year old, giggling: I think Dad recorded something by accident.
Him: It was your mother and it had secrets. *delete*
Her: I deleted it but it just took a while.
Him: That deletes it off your phone, not hers!
Him: Awkward.

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Smashing Morning

I woke up this morning feeling very groggy. Not hung over. I didn’t drink that much. Just that ache of exhaustion punishment on the body after giving in to a decent night’s sleep.

I approach the coffee maker and there is plenty of water but I think it would be nice to fill it up so Cathy has enough for her coffee. In the process, the cup that I use to transfer water into the reservoir slips from my hand landing perfectly on a vase with the correct angle and velocity to shatter the vase into a million pieces.

Cathy’s response? "Oh, that’s just from way back when you used to bring me flowers. It’s no big…wait, I’m devastated! Only a Starbucks will make me feel better."