After reading my previous post, Paul said he thought I’d been a bit excessive in extolling his virtues (and besides, he’s been getting a lot of flack at work for the Jane Austen thing.) Therefore, in the interests of complete honesty, I am obliged to inform you of the following Paul-related facts:
~He has five or six jokes that he especially likes, and tells them whenever we meet someone new. I am contractually bound to laugh each and every time.
~He snores–and it sounds like an entire kindergarten class learning to play the bagpipes.
~He uses the corner of our bedroom as a dumping ground for old software boxes, computer parts, user manuals, scratched CDs, and assorted Guy Crud. Every so often the crud migrates across the room, forcing me to employ the move-it-or-lose-it-in-a-giant-silicon-fueled-bonfire ultimatum.
~It takes him twenty minutes to make a Scrabble move.
~Like many men, he has a vision problem. He can’t see dirt. This pretty much renders him unable to mop floors, dust, or wipe down countertops. (I believe this ailment is closely tied to the auditory disability that prevents men from hearing a baby cry in the middle of the night.)
~He always forgets when I’m on a diet, and invariably brings home some gooey, chocolate-y, caramel-covered concoction that I am unable to resist with the puny power of my feeble human will.
(Oh, who am I kidding? I love him for that last one.)