I got up at 6:30 this morning and was out at the park on a
two hour trail run (waddle?) by 7. My husband tells me I shouldn’t do that,
because the energy I get from doing so results in conversations like this,
which happened as we were eating dinner:
Me: Hmmm, taking a bite of fresh cherry makes this brie
taste that much more stinky. Yet compelling. Like watching the Kardashians.
Husband: Wait, what?
Me: Yep. Hey, do you think if I worked out enough my ass
would be as strong as a nutcracker? If that happens, you’d better be careful
when I make candied pecans.
Husband: Are you saying that you’d have a buttcracker?
Me: Maybe. Hey. That reminds me, I need to do laundry.
Husband: Andi, how the hell did you get from cherries to
Kardashians to buttcrackers to laundry all in under two minutes?
Me: I’m just that awesome.
Husband: Please never run in the morning again.
Me: I wonder what will happen when I get up tomorrow at 5:15 to run?
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