Michael and I have a really great relationship. I think its many little things all mixed together to make a whole lot of awesomeness. Its a little bit of really enjoying being together, a little ability to talk about anything, a little bit of fighting fair (yes we do get mad at each other, but we try to keep our words true, and in check so as not to hurt irreparably), a little bit of determination, a little bit of laughter, a little bit of hard work, and a little bit of sharing everything. Actually, we are maybe REALLY good at sharing.
A couple of nights ago I dreamed that I was being stung on the arm so I sleepily brushed it off, and then woke up. I got up, washed my arm, put some toothpaste on it (I once read in Real Simple that toothpaste is the best for bee stings), and then realized that my arm was really, REALLY hurting, and it just wasn’t getting better. Looking for some sympathy, I went and woke Michael up. When he came to I said, ” I got stung by something; my arm REALLY hurts!” To which he answered, “hey wait, mine does too.” Sympathy PAIN isn’t what I was looking for, but when I saw the blood I felt really bad for him.
We both had a hard time sleeping because of the pain, and it hadn’t faded that much by the next morning. Michael’s arm was quite swollen from his elbow to his wrist. So we both went looking for sympathy from our friends. They all told us that it must have been a large CENTIPEDE (Michael’s two sting marks are about 1/2 an inch apart), and that its really, REALLY good that we shared the poison because grown, grizzled, old men have been known to cry after getting bit by a centipede.
I guess its not nice to be glad that my best friend got bit by a centipede. So, I’ll just be very glad a centipede only half bit me.