[drafted, as occurred, on Monday…]
While the discussion may have begun with an acknowledgment of the fact that I ignored Mr.Q’s not so subtle tactics last night [hey, I still am fighting off a cold here and am damn tired], it lead into the acknowledging Mr.Q’s not so subtle tactics regarding tonight’s possible events, how I’m still sick and tired and how I have to vacuum … unless, perhaps, maybe he wanted to vacuum, because that would make me oh-so happy … [nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more!].
To which Mr.Q responded: nah, it’s not worth it.
I kid you not. That, of course, was met with frosty silence.
To which Mr.Q responded: oh, no, I mean you’re worth it, but it’s just that vacuuming’s really hard work and all…
That, too, of course, was met with frosty silence. And a raised eyebrow. And a contemplated feint of the knee toward the vicinity of the crotch. And much rolling of eyeballs and discussion about how it’s amazing that we ever even had a baby and the merits of turning down the temperature in one’s shower.
Mr.Q, however, made dinner, baked cookies and washed the dishes. All of his own free will. Now, though, he’s watching football.
But, at least there are chocolate cookies.