One Year Later

OC and I just passed our one year anniversary as a cohabitating couple. A few things have changed between then and now. THEN.

Now:

I woke. OC was still asleep. I left the room quietly so I wouldn’t disturb him.

In the living room I read my email, checked my feed reader, and commented on a few blogs. OC slept. I went into the kitchen and emptied the dishwasher. He slept. I got the waffle iron out, mixed up some batter — from scratch! — and set the table. OC slept. I mixed some orange juice. He slept.

I returned to the couch, leaned forward to retrieve my laptop from the coffee table, and looked up to see an intruder come through the lanai door. OC slept.

I stared at the intruder in terror and thought briefly about screaming, but that’s too much drama even for me. Instead I lept from the couch, dashed to the kitchen, grabbed the bug spray, and blasted the intruder with at least a half a cup! The intruder writhed on the floor in agony. OC still slept!

I grabbed a piece of old newspaper and bundled the intruder up in it, squeezing until I was certain it was well and truly dead. OC slept.

Having vanquished the intruder, I headed to the bathroom for a well deserved shower. OC slept. However, when I emerged from the bathroom, he was awake and ready to start the day. He was overjoyed to see the waffle iron out. I plugged it in and took the condiments from the fridge. OC sat on the couch and opened his lap top.

I said, “We had an intruder this morning.”

OC looked up with great concern. “Who? Wha–”

“A centipede,” I said.

OC looked around. “Where?”

I pointed at the can of bug spray. “I murdered it.”

“Oh,” OC said. His attention returned to his laptop.

“It tried to murder me,” I said. “And you slept right through it!”

OC grunted.

“Hey,” I said. “It could have killed me. You’d have come out here and found my dead body on the floor and the centipede doing high kicks on my nose.”

OC looked up from his computer, raised his eye brows and said, “Right.”

“You are the hero,” I said. “It’s your job to save me. You’re not supposed to be asleep when I am in mortal peril.”

“Uh-huh,” he answered, eyes still on his computer.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” I queried.

“When’s breakfast?” He asked hopefully.

* * *

Happy Anniversary, OC. I love you. Aren’t you glad to have me?