My DH loves Christmas. He's complaining about the snow, at the moment, but he tore off the Halloween decorations yesterday and is promising to put up the Christmas decorations any day now. Today he bought Celine Dion's Christmas Album, and we had to listen to it in the car.
His enthusiasm is infectious, and I have a lot of fun with the holiday because of him.
As Celine Dion was making the hairs on the backs of our necks with O Holy Night on the way home, a man on a mobility scooter sped towards us down the street. He was dressed in all black, with dark gray shades and a black stocking cap. On the back of his scooter, he had a bag of who-knows-what.
He looked like he was racing home from a bank heist, LOL. (This was funnier in person, I swear.)
Anyhow, last night DH and I had a ... er, disagreement. In the middle of it, he yells at me, "Stop talking like you're writing dialogue!"
I was dumbfounded. Um, I write dialogue like I talk, or my friends talk. I just can't figure out how it sounds like I'm writing dialogue when I'm talking!
Ah well. At least the Christmas lights will soon make the snow bearable.