Good Intentions, Flawed Results
This morning I was feeling frisky. I don’t even know what that means exactly but it sounds better than horny. I’m still recovering from a bout with the flu. That sounds so nice, like I had tea with the flu. In reality, the flu kicked my ass for about 14 days and then left to seek another victim. Proof that my husband really does love me lies in the fact that he was willing to get frisky with me considering I hadn’t been interested in even looking at him for two weeks.
Getting romantic when you reach our age requires tactical maneuvers. First, he had to go feed the dogs so we could lock them out of the room. Our female dog knows what’s up so she hides when she suspects there might be naked humans in her vicinity but our male dogs thinks it’s a fine time to relax on the bed with us. He seems very offended when we insist he gets down. Second, I needed hubby to rub my hip. I have lower-back issues and tight hips inhibit romance, or so I’m told. We call this “foreplay”. Third, we like to play Pandora to set the “mood” or because we are hoping our son who lives with us just thinks we like to listen to music in our room, with the door closed, for about 30 minutes on Sundays. Yes, we are fooling no one.
We play Pandora on our television and this morning I remembered that I bought a new fire stick for the bedroom. Before you start to wonder if this is going to get weirder and more uncomfortable, a fire stick is not a sex toy. Well, it might be a sex toy but wait, let me Google it. Yep, there is a sex toy sold by Amazon which is the same place I bought my fire stick and luckily I didn’t ask Alexa to order it for me or I might have ended up with the glass fire ice stick which would not have helped me with my Pandora issue. Honestly, it does look like it might help with my hip issue though.
When you install a new fire stick you have to login into all the apps you want to use on the new device. I find this incredibly annoying. Why can’t my television just talk to my fire stick and give it the 411? First hubby had to find the Pandora app and then he had to log into it. Now if you are at all like my husband, this point in the story is not good news for you. He has two types of passwords, the ones that are as secure as using the word “password” and the ones he can’t remember.
For the next twenty minutes we attempt to figure out his password:
Me: Okay, I entered your email address. That’s the right one, right?
Me: So what’s your password?
Him: I don’t know
Me: So could you guess? Is it the one we set up for Itunes?
Him: I don’t know. Try (insert completely lame and easily hackable password)
Me: Okay that didn’t work, what else you got?
Him: Try (insert even lamer and easily hackable password)
Him: Here let me try
Me: Eyeing him suspiciously because we both know I am the one who is going to figure this out in the end. Why do you not write down your passwords?
Him: Ignores my side-eye and also my accusation.
Him: Okay let me try the Itunes one
Me: Did you put it in correctly?
Him: Yes, I put it in the way I do on Itunes
Me: Did you use the capital letter in the middle?
Him: There’s a capital letter in the middle?
Me: Takes remote. Tries to sound helpful by just saying “yes” but it comes out “uh, yeah!” instead. I don’t know how that happens.
Me: Types in ACTUAL Itunes password.
Pandora: Thank you, that took long enough.
Him: Oh yeah I forgot there was a capital in the middle.
Romance isn’t dead in our house, it’s just being cock-blocked by my husband’s inability to remember his passwords.
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