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Guess who didn’t take her Get-Your-Butt-to-Bed Tea, and now she’s wiiiide awake? Parker, of course, is sleeping.

Yesterday, Parker did laundry and made food which was AMAZING. He actually cooks a lot for us, and we all know how I feel about laundry. Monday at work, I was wearing a bikini top with one strap, because I couldn’t find any bras. I also couldn’t find any tank tops with built in bras, hence Swimwear to Work Day (Unofficial, because I didn’t tell anyone). I want to be professional, and if my breasts are left to their own devices, they start bitching me out by the end of the day. And that hurts, physically, so I end up holding my boobs and groaning. Not the best work gesture. Very distracting to myself and clients. Okay, moving on.

Parker: I don’t care how I look! See this? I’m wearing swim trunks and my trailer park shirt.
Me: I don’t either! I dressed up today, because it’s kind of a date day for us. But I wore a bikini top to work.
Parker: You wear clothes.
Me: Uhhh yeah! I don’t walk around naked at work. They would fire me. You wear clothes too. Clearly, we both care a little bit about how we look, because otherwise, we wouldn’t be allowed to participate in society.

Since he could take a million more midgets than I could in a fight, he’s pretty strong. He packed in way more laundry and did it faster. Basically, Parker is some sort of robot who’s better at everything than me with a few exceptions. Some of those exceptions are things people wouldn’t want to be better at, like being crazy. Others are slightly better, like faking a British accent and a history of streaking. The streaking thing is neutral, because I don’t do it anymore. Not because I was bad at it. I’m an amazing streaker. It’s why I retired. I’m too good.

Today, we both had the day off, and I slept in. Parker got up at a usual human hour, while I lay in bed with a splitting migraine going in and out of consciousness, probably due to pain.

“I FEEL LIKE FECES!!” I announced from my almost face-down position.

Parker made breakfast and coffee, to prove that he’s really good at doing things in the morning as opposed to being loopy and some sort of non-political filibuster at night like meeee. I’ve got night time DOWN. So much so that it’s really hard to sleep and wake up. While grateful for his contribution, I felt guilty. He’d already done a LOT the last few days.

“I am NOT taking the dog out,” Parker informed me.

I was about to throw myself out of the bed even after two sets of ibuprofen hoping I wouldn’t spill down the stairs, when Parker DID end up taking the dog outside to the bath room.

“Thank you,” I whimpered when they came back in.

And guess what? My dog who loves food so much that she barely does anything without it, refused to eat until she saw me!

“Aww,” Parker said. “She loves you more than food!”

And he was right. After that she ate food, but she continued to check on me, because she’s sweet like that. That made me feel well enough to haul my ass into the living room, and keep a horizontal position while eating oatmeal. Even though she loves Parker, she doesn’t refuse to eat until she sees him. I’m better at making the dog love me more. Then Temperance and I napped for a couple of hours. She is the BEST to nap with, and she cuddled me the whole time. Not enough to make me feel claustrophobic and not so little that I couldn’t tell where she was.

Then we went book shopping, and we ran out of gas (Parker’s new car is apparently serious when it says empty and not like 1/2-1 hour away from running out). Parker found a guy with a gas jug (this was smart, and I was completely flummoxed when he returned). I went to pay the man for his kindness, and he told me, “No, no, the next time I run out of gas, you help me.” It was very sweet, but as I mentioned to Parker, I never just carry around jugs of gasoline. If I did, we wouldn’t have sought out this man’s help. I guess I’ll just have to start doing that.

Before we went to bed, Parker and I had the following conversation.

Parker: I think I pulled a Your Grandpa.
My grandpa is kind of an eccentric, goofy old man who’s a less genius version of Doc Brown. He is also kind of like Scuttle from The Little Mermaid.
Me: What’d you do? Eat all the candy? Conduct a crazy experiment?
Parker: I bought a book I already own.
My dad went with my grandpa to a tech store, and my grandpa wanted to buy a book. My dad said, “Don’t you own this?” My grandpa cleaned his computer room and found five copies. Five.
Me: Was it about dragons?
Parker: Ha! No, it was not about How to Train A Dragon.
Not to be confused with How to Train Your Dragon, which is a Pixar film.
Parker: No, that book is HUGE and crazy expensive!
Me: And not about training dragons. 
Parker: Right. I’ve decided to give it to someone as a present. Someone who will love it like I do. Someone who will appreciate it.
Me: Am I that person? Is this why you haven’t told me the title? Because I’ll see you have two. Now the next book you’ll give me I’ll recognize as the reject book.
Parker: No it’s about Vulgarity in Latin, and you’d think it’s about dirty talk,* but it’s actually about proper Latin vs. the common tongue.
Me (holding Parker’s cheek in my hand): You’re very smart, and I love you. But never buy me a book you would like to read.

Anyway, Parker and I had a great day off together minus the oversleeping migraine hell I went to early in the day. We went out to eat, shopped for books, and went home to the small dog and the alien looking cat to watch tv together even though Parker complained about having to watch Community. But you know what? He still laughed during the episode.

I’m going to make that man watch that show. He made me watch countless episodes of Doctor Who before I started loving it, so this is payback. As long as he doesn’t get so obsessed with it that I can’t watch it on my days off.

We have so much fun together when we go out, and we even took a quiz about birth order from my book. Because why would you need to take a quiz? It was weirdly accurate. I’ll probably read more of it in bed tonight.

*It never is.