Don’t read this.

All right, Square Piece followers, I need to explain something.  The odds are high that one day I’m going to lose all my marbles.  My brain already shows signs of relentless forgetfulness.  If crossword puzzles weren’t so frustrating, I’d probably discipline myself to finish them regularly just to combat dementia.

So here’s the thing.  You’ve seen The Notebook, right?  Where the old man reads a notebook to his old wife so that she can remember who she is and who he is?  It’s really sweet.  Major tearjerker.  (Brian loves it!)

Well, I think one day Square Piece will be my notebook.  Brian’s going to have to sit by my bed and recount these stories.  I hope to high heavens that when I’m 90, the things that make me laugh now will make me laugh then.

…Which is why I’m blogging a conversation that Brian and I had the other morning.  This one’s for me.  It’s gross.  It’s bathroom humor.  And I don’t advise that you read it at all… especially if you’re eating.  But, darn it, I want to remember this conversation because it shows just what a sweet pedestal Brian is fighting to keep me on (in spite of all of my efforts to ungracefully tumble off of it).

Here’s where you need to trust me and stop reading.  Holy XOXO’s.  Have a nice day!

So I was sitting at the kitchen table having morning devotions with Brian.  I love reading the Bible and praying with him.  In fact, our marriage never seems more on track than when we regularly connect in this way.  He knows that when he makes this a priority, my mood towards him is ever so affectionate.  Unfortunately in this instance, he called it wrong.  While my morning coffee had finally hit me and I was squirming in my chair, Brian assumed that my squirming wasn’t squirming at all.  He thought that I was feeling frisky and was flirting.  So he gave me… a look.

I stopped him dead in his tracks before he got any… um, ideas.

Me, “I’ve got to pee!  …Actually, I’ve got to poo.”

Brian, “Don’t tell me that!”

Me, indignant at the apparent double standard, “Listen!  You tell me Every.  Day. …just without your words.  You take your laptop into the bathroom and you shut the door.  You tell me.”

Brian, “You’re beautiful.  I don’t want to think about you pooping.”

Me, “Even beautiful people poo.  We don’t poop; we poo.”

Brian, “I don’t want to believe it.  Just like rain in California, I don’t want to believe it.”