injury report
Last night I was complaining to David about some random pain (side note: this is an annoying habit I got into back when I was little. Every night I would tell my parents about some ache or scratch or ailment that was bugging me. Needless to say, they usually rolled their eyes when I gave them my nightly "injury report"). Like them, David brushed it off and (calmly) said, "It's probably fine."
Without really thinking, I said, "But the hypochondriac in me isn't so sure!"
Of course, the literalist in David took that and ran: "Well, if there is a hypochondriac in you, we better get him out. That could be really serious and could cause a lot of complications."
Good thing someone keeps it real around here.
[Photo Booth seems to think I have a black eye, but it's not real. I promise.]
Without really thinking, I said, "But the hypochondriac in me isn't so sure!"
Of course, the literalist in David took that and ran: "Well, if there is a hypochondriac in you, we better get him out. That could be really serious and could cause a lot of complications."
Good thing someone keeps it real around here.
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