Curl up and Dye

The dog does not have picky taste buds. She will eat really anything that is put in her bowl. This I do not understand, as rawhide does not appeal to me at all.

Yummy!

Yummy!

The hubs has a more discerning palate. For one thing, he does not like peanut butter. Since I think peanut butter is the nectar of the gods, we would probably not be together if I had known this about him before falling for his many charms. The dog loves peanut butter, too, so I have not told her about the hubs’ aversion to it. I don’t want the knowledge to harm their relationship.

This past week, the hubs started talking about terrible tasting things in his sleep. I was fast asleep when he started yelling in his sleep, and did not fully wake up until he was almost done with the diatribe.

Hubs: This dye job is terrible!

Me: Hmm…

Hubs: The dye job! It… it just TASTES AWFUL!

Me: Uhhuh…

Hubs: I just don’t know why they can’t get it right. I mean, it’s not that hard. But, man. This one really is terrible.

Me: Yeah…

Then he rolled back over and I went back to sleep, feeling badly for the poor hubs that his dye job tasted so terrible. Hopefully it at least tasted better to him than peanut butter does!

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Personal Space

The dog is not very snuggly. Personal space if very important to her. On very rare occasions she will sit on the hubs’ lap so that they can “sing” to each other:

Making beautiful music.

However, most of the time she prefers to be by herself, snuggled up on a pile of warm laundry fresh from the dryer.

So nice and toasty!

So nice and toasty!

The hubs is not so generous with personal space when he is sleeping. He is, in fact, a bed-hog. He sprawls out, taking up almost all of the bed with his long arms and legs, occasionally striking out with an elbow to get even more space. The majority of the time I just live with it, resigned to my sliver of bed, and just scoot him over if his stretching threatens to knock me right out of the bed.

This past week I woke up because the hubs’ elbow was burrowed right into my armpit. I found myself on the EXTREME edge of the bed, with my poor behind hanging right off of the bed.

Me (pushing back on his elbow with one hand and his back with the other): Hey! Scoot over!

Hubs (not moving, because I am like a little fly pushing on him): What are you doing?!?

Me: Scoot over! My butt’s hanging off the bed because you’re taking up the whole thing!

Hubs:You have a cold butt? I just don’t know why you’re still awake…

So, did I mention that the hubs stayed asleep through all of this? Yes, the man did not wake up at all, even as I pushed him to try to scoot over. Suddenly, he scooted toward me. Now I was really afraid I would fall out of the bed!

Me (grabbing him to steady myself): Hey! I’m going to fall off the bed!

Hubs: There, there. It’s ok. It’s not that cold.

Then he patted my rear twice, pulled some blankets up on me, and didn’t say anything else. And I was left to wonder what on earth had just happened, and how was I to get him to actually scoot over.

I finally rolled him over so that I had more room. I love the hubs, but sometimes I think it would be easier if he was more like the dog: lots of personal space for both of us!