Twelve Years Of Marriage In A Simple Conversation About Hockey

I can sum up twelve years of marriage in a simple conversation about hockey.

Last night me and Mrs. This were sitting down on the couch. I’d said all week I was going to watch the hockey final, because it would contain awesome.

At sometime Pacific Time

Me: Do you mind if I watch the hockey?

Wife: No, do you mind if I read my new Twilight book?

Me: Yes, it might disturb my hockey game.

I was joking, reader. It’s just my way.

Wife: It might be really bloody and gruesome, though.

Me: No, see, this is Olympic hockey. It’s goes against the whole um, ethos, of the games. It would be frowned upon. There would be repercussions. Besides, it’s just not sporting. It’s like – it’s like, ok, Olympic boxing. There they wear padding and their objective is to sc-

Wife: I meant my book.

Me: Oh.

—

There’s me trying to hold court, if not interest. Perhaps not presiding but grant me diverting, if nothing else. And we’re having a conversation about two different things, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe it matters more than if we were talking about the same thing, otherwise I wouldn’t have written this.

I get the vampire thing by the way. Vampire fiction, yes, very good. Well get this: vampire pugs.

Yeah? See, always thinking.

Vampire pugs, reader.