I finished out the haunt season with an antibiotic-resistant sinus infection and pneumonia.
Because—and I really do need to get this on a t-shirt—I can complicate the shit out of anything.
Husband is now referring to himself as a Haunt Widower and getting absolutely no sympathy for it. Mostly because I haven’t seen him in a week.
So now it’s Friday and I’m short of conversations, unless you want Actual Conversations with Insane Haunt Patrons.
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.
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.
Confession: I am not as young as I used to be.
If I’m being completely honest with you, I was probably never as young as I was, except when I was older than I was.
I just read that back and realized the only way it makes sense is if you too have been lying about your age your whole life. If that’s you, congratulations! You’ve found your people. If not… try to keep up, because that wasn’t even my point and it’s only going to get weirder.
My haunting season is officially over, though I’ve still got to face one final wave of the unwashed masses.
You guys, I’m so lonely.
Calm down, I’m still married! Jeez, panic much? It’s just that, on my off days (non-haunting days, you know) I’m keeping my spirits up* by imbibing all the seasonally appropriate media I can cram into my day. Or night.
Just a quick one today because I’m exhausted. But in a good way!