I’m Not Sure That’s How It Works.


I’m moving out.

My car is broken, again. Of course my sweet husband is letting me drive his car. Awww… (like he had a choice) šŸ˜‰

As I am doing my normal thing yesterday, I open the trunk to pack it full of groceries. My packing is stopped short when I see a suitcase bigger than aĀ refridgerator crammed in the back. What is this?, I think to myself.

Not phased by too much anymore, I put the groceries in the front seat. I get out my phone and text my husband.

What’s in the trunk? A dead body?

Nope, he replies. I’m moving out.

Not phased by this either, I reply

So… no dead body?

Nope

I was hoping for a bit of excitement and frowned briefly upon his reply. šŸ˜¦ So of course, if he is moving out, I want to know where.

Where you moving to?

The trunk… duhh.

Oh. Ok. That seems logical. That’s why your bags are in there. Mr. Sarcasm at work, again. I just roll my eyes. I then say,

Can I come?

Thats what you say, right? When your husband tells you he is moving out your reply is, “Can I come?”.

In case anyone is worried, he’s not moving out.

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