hand me the phone
| August 8th, 2006 at 20:09 |The other morning, the phone rang at some ungodly hour of the morning … I think like 10. Marcus, having just come home a couple hours earlier after an overnight shift didn’t even stir.
“Sweetie, hand me the phone, it’s on your side of the bed.”
*snore*
*push push* “Marcus, I can’t sit up with these damn stitches. Hand me the phone.”
“Huhhhh?” *rolls over*
“MARCUS. THE PHONE. ANSWER THE PHONE.”
This gets him to sit straight up in bed, reach over, grab my Tarot book off the nightstand, and start reading it to me. Out loud.
At this point the phone had stopped ringing, and eventually I stopped laughing enough to kind of swing my legs off the side of the bed and use them to kind of counterbalance the rest of me into a standingish position so I could walk around the bed and find out who called.
He remembers none of it.
