This morning, over a breakfast of last night’s leftovers and coffee, I sighed and said, “My ultimate dream with Red is that one day he’ll hop on to my cupped hands and he’ll eat from there.”
My husband, ever the practical man, replied, “And you’ll contract a strain of the Avian flu, and pass it on to me. You’ll live and I’ll die. And people blame wet markets in China whereas…”
“…there are idiots everywhere?”
“There are idiots everywhere.”
And thus was settled yet another marital difference.