In the almost six years that Cort and I have been married, the following dialogue has happened so many times, it doesn’t matter who is saying what anymore.
We have both been wronged.
We have both begged forgiveness.
And, unfortunately, because of who we are? I am sure that this will happen many, many more times.
It is always bed time.
It is always way too late…past when we should be sleeping.
Maybe this is why it happens.
Just as we say goodnight…
“Babe. I am really sorry about this…”
And then it happens.
Sometimes it thunders through the room shaking the windows and the bed frame.
Other times it silently warms us under the blanket and seeps into the room.
Either way it is everywhere.
And we are gagging.
“OH. MY. GOD! Babe! What did you eat? For the love….”
This is when the giggling begins.
“I’m SORRY. I can’t help it. My tummy hurts.”
And now both of us are laughing because it is still hanging in the room. It’s like someone smeared it right under our noses.
“I can’t get away from it!”
“Me either! I am SORRY!”
At this point the laughing has taken over. Every time we think we are done, we lift our faces from our pillows, breathe in the funk, and dissolve into tears and giggles all over again.
“‘oh no,” what?”
There is a silent pause.
And then the air is filled with a new batch of stench.
“I’m SORRY! I can’t help it!”
“YES YOU CAN!”
“No, I can’t!”
gagging mixed with laughing combined with coughing ensues.
“Seriously, babe. Next time, you need to take that to the bathroom.”
“Why? You never do!”
“Well this is BAD.”
“Yours are bad too.”
“Ok, I think I can breathe again. Wait…don’t point that thing at me.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
And then it happens again.
Luckily, by morning the air has cleared and the gruesome events of the night before have been forgiven.
We are a happy couple again.
Until the next time late night flatulence hits.