Upon venturing out for a brief walk on Saturday to escape our virus ridden house, I began lamenting to Mr.Q about getting sick, being sick, feeling sick and, oh yeah, tired. At which point he commented that it’s understandable that I should be a little run down and more susceptible to evil illness since I am still breast feeding a fair bit.
To which I replied, without thinking: yeah, it is quite draining … oh, um, no pun intended.
To which he quipped: well, that was a rather sucky joke. Emphasis all his.
He then broke off into gales upon gales of laughter and strolled off into the sunset.
Okay, he chortled and tripped over the train tracks that we were crossing, but you get the point. I say things in all seriousness that happen to come out wrong, thereby negating whatever incredibly valid point I was trying to make, while he pulls sad little puns out of the air on purpose for the last laugh. And, because I can’t come up with anything after that other than a dry, pathetic ha-ha aren’t you freaking funny… I’m left as the one who effective shut down the conversation. Lovely