I am lying on the floor on the living room in a sleeping bag, because I am reading paper books, and the light in my usual work-corner is all wrong for reading on paper. Also, because I am lazy and weird.
So he is not surprised to see me there.
“Bible camp,” I tell him. “I’m fighting off cramps, and I’m sick of popping Tylenol. And I’m worried to death about my sales call this weekend. So I’m re-reading the gospels instead of fretting. You’re on your own for supper tonight.”
“Okay,” he responds.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t marry someone . . . eccentric?” I ask.
“Oh, certainly. I cannot imagine what that would have been like.”
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