No, I didn't actually run. I was just proud of myself for just laying on my desk at work all day instead of laying in the fetal position on my desk at work all day, which is what I wanted to do. Because I'm dying. Not really dying, that's offensive to everyone who IS dying, I'm just sick.
Anyways.
Here's the story of how I got a chocolate frosty:
Me: I need ice cream. No, I need chocolate. OH! Genius, chocolate ice cream. Please dear?
Ben: Is that your get better food?
Me: Yes. Just a Frosty. The Wendy's is less than a mile away.
Ben: I think they shut that one down.
Me: LIAR
Ben: I just went out. I'm not going out just to get you ice cream.
Me: You are a horrible awful tease. YOU SAID YOU WOULD. Marraige is all about communication. Why are you not communicating?
Ben: I'm not going out again.
Me: I'm sick. I'm PMS'ing, because I'm a girl, and techinically any day I'm not bleeding I'm PMSing. When I was pregnant you'd get me whatever I was craving. What, just because there's not a baby in me I'm worthless now to you?
Ben: You're still not getting a frosty.
(10 mins later, putting a handful of change on the counter).
Me: I'm so nice I counted out enough change for us both to have frostys. You're welcome.
Ben: We can't use that half dollar. I'm keeping it.
Me: Fine. There's a $10 in my wallet.
Ben: Where do you keep getting this cash from? Did you start taking a night job dancing?
Me:Wouldn't you like to know.
Ben: You're still not getting a frosty.
---me, glowering--
Ben: Fine. But you're staying up to watch TV with me.
Me: So you're bribing me to stay up late with my medicine. Whatever. I'll get the projector set-up.
Marraige is all about communication. We've got this down pat.
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