I lie abed for approximately 30 minutes longer than The Man Who Lives In My House. This chafes his hide. Particularly since I moan, "Coffee!?!" in a pitiable but demanding manner if he doesn't bring me a cup posthaste. Then I ask if the newspaper has arrived. He rolls his eyes, stomps to the front step, brings it into our room, and tosses it on the bed.
He has taken to muttering as he goes about this business. I catch fragments:
"is is worth it? hard to say."
He hands me my cup and a gaze at him blearily. I can't really express my gratitude properly until the caffeine enters my system.
He heads to the bathroom to shave. I overhear the following:
"Maybe when we get old I"ll get infirm first, then yeah. She has to wipe my butt. But if she loses it first, I'm hosed."