Hubs definitely looks older today than he did yesterday. Something to do with the groans and moans and sounds of pain emitting from the bedroom throughout the day. During one of my visits to his bedside, I commented that he looked like hell warmed over; to which he responded, with his head buried in the pillow and a voice gruff like he'd smoked a pack of cigs, "Bitches, take a number."
At least he hasn't lost his sense of humor.
Thankfully, last night in the wee hours of the morning, he also still had some sense... when he fell ass over teakettle without any explanation except drunkenness, he said, "That's it, I'm going home. Done. Take my beer."
And we went home.
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