I thought it was amazingly romantic (if mis-guided -- I mean, Brad, yes, but BILLY BOB??)
Anyway, I was thinking about this one night in bed, and I was also thinking about bones.
Bones are cool.
The most ordinary, everyday human beings' skeleton is a marvel of engineering and architecture, and yet we take them for granted until we develop a bad back or sprain an ankle.
Look how beautifully we are supported, cantilevered, and balanced, just so we can do something as ordinary and humdrum as walking to the laundry with a basket of dirty clothes on our hip.
I love bones.
***
I had an epiphany. Which, of course, I had to share with Fabio.
me: Honey! when you die, can I have one of your bones?
Silence. Then he put down his book and slowly turned his head to look at me.
Fabio: what. the fuck. for?
me: so I can hang it round my neck on a chain.
Then, I see concern in his eyes and I think maybe he's worried about the weight of his skull or one of his thigh bones hanging round my scrawny neck so I quickly add
"Just a little one. A finger bone or a toe bone."
(the end finger bones are properly called 'distal phalanges' -- you're welcome)
There is a long silence.
F: No.
me: why NOT?? you won't be needing them.
F: just.... no. My God, you are the weirdest wife I've ever owned. Am I going to have to post guards around my coffin????
**
Fast forward to the other day, when I repeated this conversation to my BFF. Who IMMEDIATELY offered to help, by distracting everyone with a hysterical fit, while I whip out the shears and nip off a finger.
See, THAT'S what best friends are for.
disclaimer: just because, you know, it's the Internets -- I am NOT planning to harvest anything off my husband, dead or alive. Don't report me to anyone or give me well meaning advice. {{Unless you're going to help.}}
