I'm a Bad Wife

We had a bunch of family in town over the weekend, so we gave up our bedroom for my brother, sister-in-law, and two nieces to sleep in, and TH and I temporarily moved into the guest room. Even though I reminded him repeatedly to transfer everything he might need out of our room and into the guestroom and guest bathroom, I guess he didn't really take me seriously, because every ten minutes there was something he needed.right.then out of our room, and it was usually when one of the girls was taking a nap in there. One of these "emergencies" came when we were getting ready for work on Monday morning and he didn't have his razor for shaving his patchy facial stubble. So he borrowed my razor.

That night, he was feeling his face and mused aloud, "My face feels like legs."

Thinking this was just another of his endearing-yet-inevitably-kind-of-awkward roundabout ways of complimenting me, I asked, "What do you mean? What does it feel like?"

Smooth, lithe, muscular-yet-slender? Nope.

"You know. Stubbly."

That's right. Stubbly. That's what he thinks legs feel like. Insert horrified.

Admittedly I haven't been awesome about keeping up with a normal shaving routine since baby girl's arrival. I was thankful she was born just at the beginning of pants season rather than swim suit season, as it bought me a solid six months of not having to worry about finding an extra five minutes in the morning to shave.

But here we are, coming out the tail end of those harried winter months (see what I did there?), and my husband thinks that something that feels prickly feels like legs.

You better believe I shaved this morning. And I plan on wrapping these smooth, lithe, muscular-yet-slender legs around him tonight so that he remembers what legs are supposed to feel like!