Tomorrow is April Fool's Day. You'd think, living with The Husband and all, I'd be a little more nervous about this. But it's kinda like the lore on Buffy. The Demons and Vampires don't come out on Halloween. It's too cliche. I think The Husband thinks the same about April Fool's Day. There are 364 other days in the year to terrorize Mo. Let's give her a day off.
I can assure you that he fills those other days.
Case in point ...
Back in the day, before we were officially dating and just at the flirting stage, we worked together at a funeral home. I was a secretary, he was an apprentice. Space for administrative offices is at a premium in most funeral homes. So my desk was in the basement, at the bottom of the stairs, tucked into an alcove. It wasn't as dingy as it sounds -- it was actually quite nice. My desk was U-shaped and quite large. I could sit on my chair, pulled all the way up to my desk, stretch my legs out and not touch the wall with my feet.
I had gone down the hall to the staff room for a coffee. I wandered back to my desk. Took a sip of my coffee and set my cup down. Sat down at my chair and scooched it in.
Suddenly, I felt something crawl across my foot, up my calf and up my skirt, halfway up my thigh.
I screamed. Loudly.
I used my feet to push back and actually hit something. Sorta soft, but sorta hard. As my chair flew back, I looked under my desk.
And there, crouched underneath, giggling like a maniac, is The Husband.
The door at the top of the stairs bursts open. Right above me is the chapel, where a service is just starting. Everyone just heard me scream. My boss comes partway down the stairs and asks -- not so kindly -- why I screamed. He's pretty pissed off.
My only thought is that if I out The Husband, he'll get fired. So my immediate response was ...
"I saw a mouse."
My boss seems to accept this and returns to the service. I repeatedly slap The Husband as he crawls out from under my desk. Cussing him out and calling him every name I can think of and even making some up. He only giggles more.
I think the matter is closed.
Within the hour, mousetraps were set all over the funeral home.
The poetic justice is that The Husband, being the apprentice and thus the pee-on, was given the task of setting all the traps.
But whenever we tell that story together, he always grins and says it was worth it just to cop a feel.