Bear with me; this is probably going to be a "You had to be there" story, but I wanted to share in case any of you get a chuckle out of it.
The other evening I had been working late, and came home from the office and basically went straight to bed. Bruce was still up so we decided to watch a little TV before sleeping. I should mention that it's been pretty chilly here this week, and despite being pregnant enough to be warmer than I otherwise would be, my feet remain cold most of the time. So that evening, I climbed into bed with small ice blocks attached to my ankles, and moved them near - but not touching- my husband.
After a few (unsuccessful) minutes of trying to warm my feet up like that, I mentioned oh-so-casually to Bruce that I had a foot temperature problem, and would he be a wonderful husband who loves me so much and help me with it? He knows what that means, too- my own personal Antarctica placed carefully on or under the global warming zone of his legs.
He grumbled but assented, and when I attacked him with my feet-cicles, he cried out. "Aaagghh! Are your feet undead? Is this the cold of the grave?? Are your feet vampire feet?"
I started giggling, and burrowed my toes ever further under him.
"Aaaggh! Back, Nosfera-TOES!"
I lost it. He continued to incant against my otherworldly feet, but Nosferatoes will probably live on in the family lore for awhile.
My husband still makes me laugh.
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