Last year, Husband told me that he was thinking about moving to Connecticut because New York state was so grossly mismanaged that he could not stand to see his tax dollars squandered any more. "But don't worry," he said. "It'll only be for a few days a week and you can stay in New York." "Excuse me?" I said. "I didn't get married so that we can live apart for part of the week. If you are moving to Connecticut, then I am moving with you." I sighed. I really didn't want to move to Connecticut.
"Fine." I paused. "If we move to Connecticut, can I have a horse?"
"Absolutely! Everyone in Connecticut owns a horse," Husband said.
I laughed. "Will we live on a horse farm?"
Husband nodded. "Yes! That's how everyone lives."
"So we'll live in a former barn?"
"We'll have to get a pet owl then because there will be lots of mice. Our owl's name is Professor Owlie."
"Blraghblechretch," I said. "Yergarchchchch."
"What was that?"
"That's Professor Owlie throwing up the mice he ate. Owl's eat their food whole and then barf up the bones and skin and fur. I just want you to get used to the sound since he'll be puking up all night when we live in a barn on a horse farm in Connecticut."
Husband tickled me. "You're ridiculous."