let’s have a snow day, future wife!

Hi, love.

You know that sound you hear on a winter morning, when your eyes are trying their hardest to open? It’s familiar. Harsh, but very satisfying in a way you can’t quite put your finger on.

Until you do.

Metal on asphalt.

You jump out of bed and run for the nearest window.

The snowplow’s flashing light is just disappearing from sight, in a cloud of powder-y snow.

The wind is whipping in from the northeast, making it impossible to tell exactly how much has fallen so far.

But your suspicions begin to grow.

You have to pee, but you must check the radio or the internet to confirm.

And there it is…

“Snow day! Snow day! Snow day!”

“You realize that you’re a grown man and you work from home, right?” you’ll ask.

“But today I get you to play with!”

“I’m going to have to do some actual work.”

“Of course.”

“No. Really.”

“Sure. Absolutely,” I’ll say.

“Your smile makes me nervous.”

“It totally should.”

“Are you going to go back to bed for a while?” you’ll ask hopefully.

“I think so. Take advantage of getting to legally sleep in.”

“You haven’t blinked in a minute and a half.”

“Yup. That’s going to be a problem.”

But I’ll leave you alone to do some work. I really will.

For about 17 minutes.

“Let’s play Lava Floor!” I’ll say.

“Lava Floor?”

“The floor is made entirely of lava and we have to walk on things like pillows and chairs to get around the house.”

“Are you ten?”

“No. Okay. We could play Lava Clothes! All of our clothing is made of lava, so we can’t wear any of it.”




“I went too far. I see that now.”

You’ll eventually concoct a plan to send me to the store for a little peace and quiet. You’ll call me while I’m there to add to the list.

“Maybe you should grab some tampons,” you’ll say.

“Do you need tampons?”

“Hmmm. Not really.”

“So you’re just messing with me?”


“Well I’ll have you know that it used to bother me, but I’ll buy TAMPONS any time.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup. Tampons. Tampons! I’ll buy TAMPONS right now– Oh God! I see someone I know!”


I’ll get back home, and talk you into a game of Monopoly.

You’ll be kicking my butt, and I’ll need to throw you off your game.

“Don’t you think the world started going to crap when we let women own property.”

You’ll wing a hotel at my noggin.

And I’ll be all, “Giirrrrrrrrlllllll.”

And you’ll be all, “Did you just say ‘Giirrrrrrrrlllllll’ to me?”

And I’ll be all, “I don’t know. A lot of people were talking. Shhhhh.”

And I’ll lose the game and have to cook your lunch.

I’ll even wash the dishes. You know, because I’m lovely and stuff.

But when the dishes are dried and put away, I’ll plop down on the couch behind you.

“I made a promise to myself to get some work done today,” you’ll say knowingly.

“Sure. Work. Promise,” I’ll reply as I kiss up the side of your neck.

“You know that melts me.”

“I had no idea.”


“Let’s have a sexy shower,” I’ll say, pretending it just popped into my head.

“I need to woooork.”

“Oh, I know,” I’ll say.

“I’m serious.”

“If you don’t join me in the shower, I am going to sing some Oasis extremely loudly and very much off-key.”

“Do you sing any way other than off-key?”

“No. Not really.”

“I’m going to take my chances.”

“Don’t look back in anger, love.”

“Oh fiiiiiiine. You’re annoyingly charming.”


“Why do I put up with you?” you’ll ask.

“Oh. Because no one on the planet will ever, ever love you more, and always make you completely aware of it.”

“Well that’s pretty good.”

“It’s not bad.”

So what do you say, future wife?

Wanna get stranded on a winter’s day with me?







photo credit: DSCF1234 via photopin (license)

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