I’m Starving
I’m sitting here waiting for my snookey to come home for lunch. The time varies every day… sometimes 12:30, sometimes 1:30.
He likes the 1-2:00 lunch (getting home at 1:30) because the rest of the day goes more quickly for him. However, that means we’re waiting longer til we eat. And I wait for him to show up before I have my own lunch.
Why? Because I’m so damned sweet, that’s why.
Which reminds me of a girl named Cathy who was working where I just finished the job the other week.
For those who don’t know, I call my honey, “my honey”. Both here on the net (where I also call him my snookey) and in real life.
On to Cathy. Cathy was enamored with the fact that I called my honey, my honey. She thought it was really sweet. One day at the lunchroom table she asked me, “do you call everybody that? or is it just this husband?” to which I said, “no, just this one”.
She did the “awwww” thing, while looking around at the other people and smiling, “isn’t that sweet?” and nobody else seemed to give a shit.
She asked me about my previous husbands… “what did you call them?” and I said, “I dunno… assholes?”
That wasn’t overly sweet, so I didn’t elicit any “awwww”, but she still would smile and look around at everyone every time I called my honey, my honey.
It started to make me feel uncomfortable saying it. I felt like I should have some other type of conversation that didn’t involve my honey in it, just so I wouldn’t be saying “my honey”.
So, anyway, I just heard my snookey wookey come in the door, which means we can have some lunch now. So enough chatter.
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