I wanted some quick mint tea from the garden yesterday.

“Well,” I said, “too bad I don’t have that mortar and pestle anymore.”

“What happened to it?” said Mr. Husband, who was driving. I jacked my knee up while running, and now it hurts to shift, so he is driving now. Pathetique.

“I made you take it back, remember? We were fighting.”

“Oh, yeah, you and your gift weirdness.”

“I don’t see what is so weird,” I replied. “I can’t accept nice gifts from you when we’re cross with each other. That bike you got me a few years ago, every time I rode it I would think about the events that led up to our anniversary.”

“Hmmp,” he said. Not ‘hmmph.’ I couldn’t live with a hmmph-er, I’d feel like I was in a bad movie.

“Anyway, I’d rather have the memory of the mortar and pestle and bike than actually have them.” It was raining lightly and we let the windshield wipers punctuate the pauses.

“That’s better than having the stuff?” Mr. Husband said, after a minute.

“Yes, because I have the memory of your considerate presents, without having to see them and remember the fights. It’s the best of both worlds.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “That was a nice bike.”

“That’s why we’re still married,” I said.

In Other News

Personal library kit.
I usually just resort to scribbling my name on the inside, but this is cooler.