Storm’s a comin’!

David arrives home, a little later than usual. 

“I have things for you,”  he says, before running back out to the car.

“Oh really?”

He comes back, hefting a full bag of firewood and making He-Man- look-how-strong-I-am noises.

“Firewood?”

“In case you’re cold.”  He says as he runs out once more.  (Yesterday, I’d had a fairly violent code blue – David kept throwing blankets on me and Rissa ran me a hot bath.)

He returns, arms laden with a veritable cornucopia of items.  He displays them with husbandly pride.  “You can have Fleur de Sel dark chocolate  and/or chocolate chip cookie lava cakes and/or cookies & cream ice cream!  You could have all three – together!  Plus (but wait there’s more!)  I have these too!  (He indicates a bottle of Pinot Grigio and a box of Shiraz.)   I wasn’t sure which you might want.  And there’s a six pack of Stella Artois – mostly for me, but if you want them you can have them.  I wanted to cover all bases.  You can do a little from column A, a little from column B if that works.”  He is an eager border collie puppy.

So either… he is making up for that extramarital affair he is having or…

“Is this because my period is coming?”  (I’d been on the cusp for a couple of days now)

“… I thought I’d be prepared.”

“So you’re saying that my period is akin to preparing for a category 4 storm front?”  (His eyes widen slightly.)    “Oh my God!  I’m Hurricane Heather!  You’re battening down the
hatches!  This is you calling in food and alcohol equivalents of the
National Guard!”

 I can see him thinking very carefully about his response.

“No…  this is me, your faithful and loving husband, providing coping options to you, my lovely wife, in the event of any situation that might arise.”

Smart man.