If she’s downstairs watching TV, and I’m upstairs on the computer, she will hold intricate (and highly audible) conversations with the cats involving some (or all) of the following components:

• Informing them that I no longer love them
• Revealing that they will never see me again
• Asking if they remember what their father even looks like
• Reminiscing about the good old days when they had a large body to cuddle against
• Planning their future search for a new father
• Discussing plans to turn the computer room into a guest bedroom
• Amazing over Ruminating over Chitchatpalavering on the subject of* how much better things smell now that I’m gone

However, when I come downstairs and join them on the couch, they all just fall asleep.

…

* My Dad sucks.

She has never once berated me for my lack of washboard abs by exclaiming “A six-pack would go down great right about now!” and then glaring at my stomach.

Last night’s Battlestar Galactica is sitting on our DVR right now.

I wasn’t ALLOWED to watch it last night, since it was on at 11:00 and My Lovely Wife said she would be asleep unless I was watching it in which case her subconscious mind would alert her to the fact that “her Starbuck” was on TV and cause her adrenal medulla to pump adrenaline through her system thereby causing her to wake up suddenly and in all likelihood punch me in the stomach repeatedly.

Or something like that.

Whatever her reasoning, last night’s Battlestar Galactica is sitting on our DVR right now.

UNWATCHED.

So… Internet… I have a small request to make:

Please don’t tell me what happened.

And I mean, NOTHING. Not even coy little hints. Those are the worst.

Hell, even if Edward James Olmos breaks character, looks directly at the camera and says, “Jason Sweeney — a rain of frozen toads will crush you DEAD if you walk on Oxford Street at exactly 11:10 am on January 22, 2007,” JUST LET ME TAKE MY CHANCES. A RAIN OF TOADS IS UNLIKELY AND EDWARD JAMES OLMOS IS NOT A WORLD AUTHORITY ON THEM.

We are watching it when we get home tonight.

After that, feel free to spoilerise the episode for everyone else.

Until then, can you please just share funny pictures of cats or videos of guys getting hit in the groin with iPhones or whatever?

Thanks.

You’re the best.

UPDATE: We’re all good. Spoilerise to your heart’s content.

(Special thanks on the whole not-ruining-the-episode-for-me front HAVE go out to Walking To Do. Rock on, DecemberFlower. You get an eCookie.)

She trusts no one.

True, this means that I can never surprise her with chocolate or other candied goodness:

Me: [Holding treat behind my back] Open your mouth and close your eyes and I’ll give you a BIG surprise.

My Lovely Wife: What is it?

Me: C’mon… just close your eyes-

My Lovely Wife: WHAT. IS. IT?

Me: [Sing-song voice] It’s a surpriiiiii-iiiiise…

My Lovely Wife: I’m outta here…

[My Lovely Wife leaves room. I forlornly eat treat.]

But… I never have to worry about her getting taken in by grifters.

No magic beans for this lady.

Some times, if I come home late, I’ll come in the living room and there she’ll be. Asleep on the couch, the blanket wrapped tight around her, her hair pushed over her face. Maybe she’ll be snoring, one of those cute snores, the sort of snore a bunny would snore. And the Small One will be asleep on her belly and the Large One will be asleep on her toes.

And my heart will break a little.

Also, I’ll get to watch whatever I want on TV.