Just had the following text-ersation with Michael:

Me: 2736 words. Brain suddenly feeling a bit mushy.

Him: Sounds like it’s time for a workout.

Me: I was thinking of baking. Which is probably the exact opposite.

Me: Also, are you calling me fat?

— LONG PAUSE —

Him: Absolutely not.

Me: That’s not what it sounded like. It sounded like you don’t want cookies.

Him: I would never say no to cookies.

Me: Okay. As long as you have your priorities straight.

Him: Straight as the line between the back door and cookie sheet.

That, btw, is pretty damn straight. Poor Michael — the trials and tribulations of being married to a writer who bakes. Not that he seems to mind. Upon reflection, perhaps this is simply funny to me because I have a case of mushy brain right now… okay, off to bake… another flash fiction friday instalment coming this week.