Ah, But to Be a Fly...in My Soup...

Zube Boy and I have been going out to eat quite a bit in recent weeks. For three reasons, mostly. Reason the first: I really, really don't feel like cooking. In fact, I think I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a wooden spoon than throw together a one pot meal of hamburger helper. Reason the second: I think we're taking a teeny bit of advantage of the fact that we CAN go out to eat quite easily. He calls me up five minutes before he's due off of work and asks if I'd like to go out to eat. I say, "Yeah." He says, "Okay, I'll meet you at Fatty's in fifteen minutes." Something tells me things won't be easy like that in the very near future, goddess-willing, of course. And lastly, reason the third: Recently, it has become quite apparent that when I want a chimichanga right now, well, I want a goddamned chimichanga RIGHT fucking NOW! No time to go buy ingredients or scour the 'net for a decent chimichanga recipe. It's far easier to head out to a restaurant where someone has so thoughtfully put together all of those ingredients already. Just for yours truly.

Anyway, our dinner conversations have had an interesting slant.

Z-Girl: *pushes her half eaten cheeseburger away* That's it. I'm done.

Z-Boy: You full?

Z-Girl: No. I just know that if I finish that burger, I'm going to be up all night with heartburn.

Z-Boy: Heh.

Z-Girl: What?

Z-Boy: Nothing. Heh heh.

Z-Girl: Well, what the hell are you laughing at then?

Z-Boy: I don't know. It's just funny. I mean, you used to be worried about having a little too much to drink at a party and throwing up or not being able to get up in the morning. And now you're declining to finish your cheeseburger because you're worried about heartburn.

Z-Girl: *snort* Man. Makes me feel kinda old.

Z-Boy: You should probably get used to that.

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Z-Girl: Dude, that childbirth class was pretty stupid, but at least we get to eat at Ruby Tuesdays while we're in the area.

Z-Boy: Yeah.

*silent happy chowing down*

Z-Boy: You know, I noticed something the other day.

Z-Girl: What's that?

Z-Boy: Well, at work, we have these welding masks.

Z-Girl: Uh-huh.

Z-Boy: And I put one on the other day. And I had to loosen up the straps.

Z-Girl: Okay.

Z-Boy: And I started thinking that I always have to loosen up the straps.

Z-Girl: Yeah.

Z-Boy: And that's after whoever wore it before me already LOOSENED the straps to take it off.

Z-Girl: So?

Z-Boy: So. I have a big head. I'm just sayin'.

Z-Girl: *realizing where this is going*

Z-Boy: Like, a REALLY big head.

Z-Girl: Great.

Z-Boy: Just thought it was interesting.

Z-Girl: I'm ordering dessert.

Z-Boy: You deserve it.

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Z-Girl: I don't know if we really have to go all crazy with waterproofing the room, though. Seroiusly.

Z-Boy: But, honey, NEW BED! NEW CARPET! Do you really want your water to break all over that stuff? We spent a lot of money.

Z-Girl: The thing is, though, most people's water doesn't even break until their at the hospital, in labor.

Z-Boy: Most people's?

Z-Girl: Yeah.

Z-Boy: Well, do most people have to take aspirin and progesterone when they get pregnant?

Z-Girl: Um...

Z-Boy: And do most people have crazy cervixes and get bedrested for two months?

Z-Girl: Okay...

Z-Boy: And are most people's placentas in the front?

Z-Girl: Alright...

Z-Boy: And are most people's babies still breech at 35 weeks?

Z-Girl: Okay! Shut up! I'm smelling what you're stepping in.

Z-Boy: And?

Z-Girl: Why don't we get a waterproof sheet for the bed. And I'll keep towels next to it so I can sort of throw them around me like an adult diaper on the way to the bathroom if my water happens to break while I'm in bed.

Z-Boy: Sounds like a plan.