Conversations from Cohabitation

Last week we were standing on our balcony watching the sunset. The sky was a gorgeous pinkish purple and the sun was bright orange, far too bright to actually look at.

CB: “Why are you turning the other way?”
Me: “Because the sun is too bright, I can’t look directly at it.”
CB: “But it’s a sunset. You’re supposed to, you know, watch the sun actually setting.”
Me: “Right…but do people actually do that? Like, I can watch in the vicinity of the sunset, but I can’t actually watch the sun setting because then I will be blind.”
CB: “Really? It doesn’t bother me at all.”
Me: “Are you looking directly at it?”
CB: “Yeah, that’s what you do when you watch a sunset.”
Me: “But you’re not supposed to look directly at the sun! Didn’t you learn that in, like, first grade?”
CB: “I don’t think that applies to sunsets.”
Me: “Um, I think it applies to the SUN, so yeah, it applies to sunsets. Oh my God, stop looking directly at it! You’re going to burn your corneas!”
CB: “Wow, I’m glad I called you out here to look at the sunset with me. This is really relaxing and romantic.”
Me: “It’s eye safety! That’s no joking matter!”
CB: “I love you,  too.”

***

While watching CB squinting to read the text on the tv screen, this conversation happened:

Me: “You really should get your eyes checked.”
CB: “Why?”
Me: “Because you have bad eye site.”
CB: “No, I just don’t see as well as you.”
Me, staring at him.
CB: “Plus, I wasn’t squinting just then to see the tv, I was thinking.”
Me: “Ok.”

Pause

Me: “Maybe you don’t have good eye site because you can stare directly at the sun without looking away? I believe you may have burned your retinas.”
CB, laughing: “It’s possible.”
Me: “Or that you’re just blinded by my beauty on a daily basis.”
CB: “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

Pause.

CB: “Sometimes I wish it would have been my hearing that would go and not my eye site…”
Me: “That makes sense.”

***

Groaning and holding my stomach after dinner.

Me: “Why don’t I have portion control when it comes to dinner?”
CB: “I do not know.”
Me: “Ooooooh…I’m so full.”
CB: “I actually didn’t think you ate very much tonight.”
Me: “I know, right? But my stomach is really bothering me. I’m sensitive.”
CB: “You are.”
Me: “I’m a delicate flower.”
CB: “Yep, with crazy petals.”

Pause.

CB: “Do you want a Tums?”
Me: “Do we have Tums?”
CB: “I actually don’t think we do.”
Me: “Um…then no.”

While I’m still holding my stomach and looking sad, CB walks into the bathroom and comes out with a Pepcid tablet.

CB: “Here, take this.”
Me: “What’s that?”
CB: “Well, it says it’s for heartburn and acid indigestion. Do you have acid indigestion?”
Me: “I don’t know, do I? I don’t know what that feels like. Is that what this feels like?”
CB: “I don’t know, just take it.”
Me: “It won’t hurt me?”
CB: “Well, either it’ll help or it won’t, but if it doesn’t, what’s it going to do, make your stomach hurt?”
Me: “Good point.”

CB hands me the tablet.

CB: “It’ll taste a little chalky.”
Me: “Ew, I don’t want to eat something chalky!”
CB: “Well, it won’t taste good. It’s not candy.”
Me: “Ooooh, they should invent tablets that taste like candy!”
CB: “Well, it’s cherry flavored, so they tried.”

Five minutes later I’m lying on the couch reading and happened to glance over at the Pepcid bottle on the table.

Me: “Oh my God! The expiration date is from July 2011! It might kill me!”
CB, laughing: “No, it won’t kill you. It’ll just maybe not work.”
Me: “Did you know?”
CB: “Know what? That you’re crazy? Yes.”
Me: “No! That it was expired.”
CB: “No, but I’m sure that’s just a suggested sell date.”
Me: “Um, it says ‘EXPIRATION DATE.’ I’m pretty sure that means it expires.”
CB: “Well, does your stomach feel better?”
Me: “Actually yeah, a little.”
CB: “Then this conversation didn’t need to happen.”
Me: Story of your life.”

Happy Monday, everyone!