As usual, I forgot a load of laundry in the wash until after midnight, so I had to stay up an extra hour while it dried. Husband’s undershirts take even LONGER to dry than an hour, apparently, so I found him (sleeping on the couch in “his room,” where he often falls asleep reading books), and the following conversation ensued:
ME: Honey, the t-shirts are still drying, and I’m going to bed. Do you care if they’re a little wrinkly, or do you want to stay up to fold them?
HUSBAND: It’s okay.
HUSBAND: It’s okay. They can report to themselves. It’s okay.
ME: What? Are you speaking English?
HUSBAND: They can report for themselves, the star channel peoples.
ME (now laughing): Are you hearing yourself? What are you saying?
HUSBAND: The star channel peoples…it’s okay. They have to pee…the star channel peoples. (getting up) I have to pee.
He shuffles himself off to the bathroom, and I follow him, laughing, trying to recount this story to him. He still doesn’t think it’s funny. Maybe he will in the morning when he reads it here…