The Mike Stories, Pt. 44

Chrissy: Did you call Meg?
Mike: No, I can do it right now.... [looking through his phone for a minute]... hmm.... I can't find her phone number.
Chrissy: You definitely have it.
Mike: Are you sure? How do you know?
Chrissy: Remember when we went to the movie in the park, and you had to keep talking to Meg on my phone, and I made you add her number to yours, so you would quit using my phone?
Mike: Hmm... Are you sure I actually did it, or did I just tell you I did it?
Chrissy: Yeah.... that is a distinct possibility...

The Mike Stories, Pt. 43

So Mike came down with a chest cold about a month ago, and stayed home sick, sleeping on the couch for something like a week and a half. A couple of weeks ago, when he didn't appear to be getting any better, I asked him if he had a fever. He said he didn't know - and wandered off into the bathroom to take his temp. Sure enough - he had a fever. I told him he had better go to the doctor in the morning.

And off to the doctor he went, just over two weeks ago. The doctor diagnosed him with pneumonia, and sent him home with an antibiotic and some codeine for his cough. He's slowly improved since then, but has been coughing like a maniac. He went back to work last week - only to be told that he should go back home and work from home for a couple of days. He was making the other worker bees nervous about contagious germs. He went back in a couple days this week - but has stayed home the last two days to work from home. Yesterday I told him if he still felt like he needed to stay home, he should probably go back to the doctor.

And so off to the doctor he went again. This time the doctor told him that a cough often seems worse as the body makes its way toward the end of the cold/pneumonia/whatever. (I can vouch for that. During my first couple of years in the classroom, I was a card carrying member of the cold-of-the-month club. The awful cough was always the last thing to hit, and always a sign that i was finally nearing health again)

Well on Monday of this week, Mike found the motivation to go running with me. I've been running for just over a month, and keep asking if he wants to go with me. We discovered that I can run longer than he can (which was a surprise. I've never been a runner until recently. I expect to be worse at it than everybody I know)!... then on Wednesday he told me he didn't feel well enough to go running, and opted out. He opted out again today, saying that his doctor had told him today that he should rest and take in plenty of fluids.

That's when I learned that Mike's interpretation of the good doctor's advice is to lounge around on the couch with his feet up, drinking cocktails. When I inquired about this - he said that cocktails definitely count as a category of fluids, and that he was just following the doctor's orders.

The Mike Stories, Pt. 42

Me: What are you doing?
Mike: I don't know.
Me: Are you writing me a love song?
Mike: No.
Me: Are you writing me a love poem?
Mike: No.
Me: Are you writing me a love letter?
Mike: No.
Me: Are you writing me a love e-mail?
Mike: No.
Me: Why not?
Mike: Do you want me to write you a love letter?
Me: Yes. You should write me a love sonnet.
Mike: Who is going to sing this love sonnet?
Me: You are. But not in your church singing voice. I hate your church singing voice. You should use your regular singing voice.

The Mike Stories, Pt. 41

Tuesday. 4 a.m.

I was jolted awake to the blurry sight of Mike standing in the bedroom doorway telling me to get up. I immediately rolled over and looked at my alarm clock, thinking my alarm clock must not have gone off, and wondering exactly how late I was about to be.... except Mike was going on about something to do with a police officer in the driveway, and I discovered that it was only 4am. I just stared at him for a few minutes. Then I uttered something along the lines of "huh?" ....and finally asked him why he woke me up. Mike said something about the officer needing my statement. I asked him: what statement?! I was sleeping!

Turns out there was a police officer in the driveway because he had just caught someone trying to break into one of our cars. I begrudgingly threw on my bathrobe and wandered downstairs. The officer handed me a plastic evidence bag thing with what looked like a credit card inside, and asked me what it was. the 4am hour did not help. I just stared at it. Eventually I realized it had my name on it. It also had my work's name printed below my name, and it said it was a Debit/Mastercard in the corner. I was a little bewildered by the question. Obviously it was some sort of credit card in my name, except I didn't recognize it. I told him as much - and that the only card I owned was my Debit card, which this was not.

Meanwhile Mike was asking me if it was our medical card. Again, the 4am hour was not helping me here - I told him it was obviously a credit card, not a benefits card. The officer was also going on about how the jerk in the back of the squad car was caught with it, and that he could be charged with a felony for having possession of my credit card instead of just a misdemeanor. Eventually, Mike's nagging about a medical card broke through my 4am haze, and I realized he was talking about our Benny card. It's a card we can use to make use of a benefit I get through work, where I can use pre-tax dollars to pay for certain medical expenses. It hasn't had any funds on it for over a year, and Mike hasn't been able to locate his card for about 2 years.

The officer wanted me to take a look in the car to see if anything else was taken, and give a statement. So I started walking to mine.... and the officer started walking to Mike's. I pointed to my car and told him "that one's mine." He had assumed that the douchebag criminal was robbing my car, because it was my name on the card he'd stolen. This is how we learned where Mike had hidden his Benny card 2 years ago. (It had my name on it, because the benefit is through my workplace). At this point, the officer said something about how he thought it was just Mike's car that had been broken into, because that was the one with unlocked doors. Next I turned my 4am hazy wrath on Mike with something that went about like this: I've been telling you to lock your car doors for years! This is all your fault!

The officer kept apologizing. Poor guy. It wasn't his fault that Mike left something resembling a credit card in his car, with the doors unlocked.... during a spree of car thefts in our neighborhood.... I just asked the officer to tell the criminal that I called him a douchebag for waking me up at such an obnoxious hour, then give him the evil eye all the way.... to wherever they take criminals in my town. (He promised he would).

The Mike Stories, Pt. 40

a conversation that occurred earlier this evening:

Me: You don't fool me.

Mike: Yes I do, I fool you all the time.

Me: No you don't. But that's ok.

Mike: it's ok?

Me: Yes. Why, you think I want to be fooled?

Mike: Yes.

Me: Why? Do you want to be fooled?

Mike: Depends by who!

Me: By me?

Mike: Yeah, you fool me all the time!

Me: And you like it?

Mike: Yeah!

Me: What?! Like when?

Mike: Like sometimes you fool me into having sex!

Me: When have I ever had to do that?!

Mike: All the time!

Me: Do you mean like - I ask you if you want to have sex?

Mike: hmph.

Me: I don't think you know what fooling means.