BEWARE: I have about as much coffee in me this morning as I do sense.

Personal Notes: I involuntarily assign personalities and bried histories to innanimate objects, mostly numbers. I'm pretty familiar with 1-10, but if someone throws a number at me my brain tends to humanize the number within a minute or so. I think it's a little less of a 'condition' and more a 'quirk' in my case (I know there is an actual diagnosis for this, but I don't remember it, so if you do, pipe up).

My husband and I were married in 2000, not terribly long after the epic Titanic made girls everywhere sigh and start trawling art classes for a boyfriend* (the boys, it must be pointed out, where extremely willing to take on *ahem* figure models so as to hone their anatomy skills).

Just like our lives, N.'s CD collection and mine blended together. He brought country music, and I brought divas into the fold. But, still. My husband's a VULCAN, all about the logic and getting things done. His work ethic is so strong I get exhausted just reading his To Do list. He's military, and has gone into a career field that often requires he run into burning buildings. He tells people the ways things are, rarely pulling punches (though, don't think he isn't gracious, he is; just don't let him catch you doing something ridiculously brainless, or he'll laugh at you). Clearly he is not a sissy boy. Sissy boys ran followed him around, panting and saying 'Hey, boss!' in school.

So you'd never in a million years expect him to WEAR OUT my Celine Dion CD, would you? And yet, he did. He looped that thing every day for a month just after our wedding.

Last night, approximately nine years after the CD weirdness, he comes home from the video place with an Ashton Kutcher indie flick. I've never been exactly keen on Ashton Kutcher movies, so you'd think N would know better and gotten the new Gerard Butler number, but nooo. It's Kutcher, and worse, it's pretty much every inch of Kutcher, in his birthday suit. N. got it, thinking it was a romantic comedy. Um, hi, did he read the back cover of that thing? Dude nookie-ing his way through L.A., until enter the actress I first saw as Joss, whom (of course) he falls in love with.

Short moral of this story, kids? Don't assume anything. You want to make sure your work creates a paritcular reaction, get out there and start asking questions.


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