My husband gets up at 2:30 am to go to work. He doesn't have to be there until 4:30, but a pot of coffee takes him awhile to drink I guess. So every morning he comes in to give me a hug and kiss with the I love yous and stuff, give us a break it's only been six months. Apparently I talk to him. I don't know this, but he tells me I do. This morning I woke up, went downstairs to the kitchen, fumbled for coffee and found this note on the counter:

This mornings conversation:

Luke: I love you babe.
Rit: Bad sandwiches.
L: Bad sandwiches?
R: Yeah, at least you told the truth cuz some people lied about it.
L: Oh, did they?
R: Um Hum, they did those mother f*ckers!
L: Wow, that's not good.
R: Then if you do really, really, bad stuff can happen.
L: Bad sandwiches?
R: Bad sandwiches

Boy, I am a great conversationalist. Luke called me at work and said he is going to write all the things I say to him in the morning. He said this is nowhere near the crazy I have been known to talk about.

Um, no thanks.