So, Chris and I are trying to get knocked up so we can have a child upon which to inflict all of our various neuroses. The latest piece of the continuing saga is that we are now having sex (now known around the house as The Sex) on a very strict schedule dictated by my doctor. I tell you this only so that I can relate the following conversation we had last week.
Him: Do you want to have The Sex now?
Me: I thought you were going to take a shower.
Him: I was, but if I take a shower before The Sex I'll have to take another one after, so I thought it would be more efficient this way.
Me: Oh, that makes sense. Ok, just let me brush my teeth first.
Him: We've taken every bit of romance out of this, haven't we?
Me: Pretty much.
Don't feel bad for me though. I may not have much romance lately, but I still have lots of The Funny and lots and lots of The Sex. Things? They could be worse.