Today we were in the car. We pulled into our driveway and, because the baby was asleep and it was pouring down, we waited a moment.
The top 40 was playing on the radio and I was googling curtains on the ipad. Obviously.
Steve turned to me and, with an earnest look in his eye (incidentally do you like the name Earnest? Too old man? Really?) and took my hand,
'Liv, when I die will you promise me one thing?'
'When you die? Why are we talking about this? Wait, why are you dying before me?'
'Don't be ridiculous Liv, I know you have thought about it, check out our respective family histories, you will be at least 90 and I will be lucky to make 65! Come on!'
I eye roll my eyes.
'Anyway, promise me this one thing'
'Alright, come on, you are actually starting to worry me!'
He cleared his throat...
'Liv, promise me that, when I die, you will buy a dog, a tough, cool looking dog, and name him Steve and tell everyone that I am living in him.'
I stared at him,
'Seriously Steve? A dog? So you want me to be a crazy lady?'
'In a word, yes. I think that, if you asked them, it would be most men's fantasy.'
'No, most men's fantasies are their wives dressed as nurses or sexy secretaries or naked with a beer, not dying and having their wives name a dog after them and pretending that they are, in fact, that dog.'
Steve was adamant,
'You are wrong. Wrongy wrong wrong.'
'Fine, I agree, I will do that, and you will be a poodle.'
Party Make Up
10 months ago