This is a conversation between my husband and I, and the inspiration for this new series of posts.
H: We should buy a boat.
Me: We’re not buying a boat.
H: You need to sell a book.
Me: That’s true. But we won’t be able to buy a boat.
H: We could get a sleeper. I don’t think you’d want any other kind, because they don’t have bathrooms.
Me: You got that right. So, it’s like camping?
H: On the water. [Said with the reverence one might use to say, “On the sun.”]
Me: And they lock? Because what if someone tries to break in?
H: Well, they do. But, it’s on the water. Who would try to break in?
Me: That’s still a thing now.
H: Not in West Virginia.
Me: That’s why I won’t camp in a tent. There’s no locking the door. If someone wanted to kill you, all they’d have to do is split the tent with a knife.
H: [Gives me that look, like after 16 years, he’s still just realizing how messed up I really am.]
Me: In my head, I’m always serial killer bait.
H: I can see that.