I heeded no concern.
However, hubbie continued to look extraordinarily excited. I wonder at this point - should I be worried?
When he finally set the mysterious box on the counter, I picked it up to get a better look, and to see what all of his excitement was about.
Do you know what it was?
A strobe light.
My husband made a special trip to the hardware store, to buy a strobe light.
What are we hosting a kiddy dance for all the 2, 3, and 4 year-olds in the neighborhood that I don't know about (I don't recall being informed about this monumental event.)
Then, I realize - ahhh, it's almost Halloween!! That's why he got the light. That makes sense, he wants to set the Halloween mood for when the 1...maybe 2 trick-or-treaters come. Oh wait, we won't be home!
What is this silly forsaken thing for anyway, I wonder?
So I ask. Trying not to sound annoyed that he spent money on something frivolous, or concerned about his mental state.
Me: "Dear, why did you buy a strobe light?"
Hubbie: "Just cause."
Me: "Cause....why?" I say, smiling.
Hubbie: "It's Halloween, don't you know."
Me: "Oh I know, well that's great! So why did you buy it?"
Hubbie: "Okay, well when I was younger these babies cost like 100 bucks, and it was on sale, and I always wanted one."
Me: Trying not to laugh my buns off at how geekishly corny, cute he is.
I shake my head, and continue about my business.
Well, I tell you there was so recapitulating of the good Ol' days because of that strobe light, no Sir. No heart felt fond memories of the yesteryear's.
He did not buy it because he always wanted one. As I saw later from my view laying in bed, with my naked hovering husband jiggling, and wiggling his buns in the blinking light - he bought it because he always wanted to dance in the light of a strobe light naked, in front of a woman.
I feel so lucky - Hehum to be that woman. Now turn off the light so you don't fall down, and break something, and so I don't feel like the world is spinning.
This is the good stuff that memories together are made of. This is right up there with the liquorice butt.
Mama of Romance
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