My Gym Rat

 

This week contains my last few “normal” days before I begin terrorizing the citizens of St. Louis every single night,[1] which means I’m spending whatever little bits of time I can with Husband—cuddling, sitting with him while he finally watches Mindhunter,[2] and taking care of some projects we foolishly put off until the least convenient season.

 

Yes, I really want to tell you about one of them, but I can’t.  It’s too big (and not at a shareable stage yet).  We’ll get there, I promise.

 

But my altered schedule makes my nightly call with Offspring easier; most nights I just call him when I’m on my way home to wash the blood out of my hair.[3]

(Ready or Not) Bride in torn, burned, bloody wedding dress, covered in blood spatter, hair matted with blood and grit, giggles.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!

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Locked Out: A Love Story (with monsters)

 

This blog—as you’ll have noticed from the title and the other posts and basically everything—is about the conversations with my husband.  I like him, he likes me, we spend time together and we talk. 

 

Usually.

 

This is the time of year all that changes; my haunt is in full swing and we’re now on opposite schedules (highly recommended for couples who secretly hate each other, btw).  Thus I present to you: Actual Texts From My Husband, including Conversations With Various Zombies, Clowns, And At Least One Demon.

 

Don’t stop now – keep reading!