Last night as Harry and I cuddled on our too-small queen sized hotel bed with the ill-fitting sheets that go POP! in the night when one decides to roll over, I gently caressed my husband with my hand. My ice-cold fingered hand.
"Yeeeeeow!" Harry jumped as I tried to soothe him by putting my other ice-cube-like hand on his warm lower belly.
"Stttttop it!" his teeth chattered as he yelled at me.
"Shhhhh," I soothed as I slowly rolled my hands over so that the top of the freezing digits were now on his nice 97.8 degree abdomen.
"That's it!" he bellowed as he threw back the comforter accidentally popping off the corner of the sheets and stomping to the bathroom in the dark, his white tee and man panties glowing in the dark.
I heard the water running and I knew what he was doing. He was purposely running his hands under the cold faucet.
Bolting to the other side of the room, behind the chest of drawers, I sat on my suitcase and hid in the darkness. I was 007. I was invisible. I was - busted.
As Harry came out of the bathroom, I bit my tongue and tried not to giggle.
"Holly?" I laughed and hornked from the corner as I tried in vain to be quiet for my welll-planned sneak attack.
However, I hadn't planned on my husband being clever enough to flip on the lights.
"Aaagh!" he screamed as light flooded the room and he rushed at me, hands dripping and I a sitting duck on my suitcase.
"You found me!" I screamed.
"I wouldn't have if you hadn't laughed," he said as he pulled me from my perch and threw me on the bed to place his cold hands on my warm back.
Ain't love grand?
Like in this picture where Harry "feeds" me a bit of Rice Krispie Treat:
Awwwww and stuff.