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I may or may not be arrested for domestic violence.

August 27, 2012

Matt chipped a tooth yesterday. Only he’s telling everyone that I chipped it for him.

I did not. I merely asked him to reshuffle his legs so I could go “under” instead of “over” on the couch yesterday afternoon. (My toes were cold.)

It’s not my fault that while shuffling his legs he knee-kicked his bottle of adult beverage into his face, thereby chipping a tiny (tiny) portion of his front tooth off.

I mean, really. If I had known he was the kind of man who would live 26 years chip-free, only to break a tooth on his own beer bottle in the middle of the living room on a lazy Sunday afternoon watching Little Mosque on the Prairie.

No. I should have known. Of course, we could make up some fantastic story about how he defended my honor in a bar fight, protecting my virtue from a bald-headed biker named Steve, or Curly. But that would require socializing outside the love nest, and I’m afraid we just have too many episodes of Little Mosque left for that. 15, as a matter of fact. Which suddenly feels like not enough…given that we started at 39.

So please: if I end up in the clink for spouse abuse, would someone please print this post? K. Thanks.

P.S. Before you ask, he’s not in pain. At least, not yet. Ask me again after his visit to the dentist. Good thing we only paid for the Basic plan…

20120827-100800.jpg

See? Tiny. He’ll live.

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