Water sports

"You can't get me out of bed," Rick said. He had not so much a smirk as the look of confidence of a person who outweighed me by about 60 pounds of which much was muscle.

I did a few token pushes. Some out of the box thinking was required.

I keep a glass of water on the nightstand.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

It's amazing how a wet t-shirt will encourage someone to get out of bed to change it. No force required.

Now it was my turn to be smug as I did a last toilet run for the night.

When I walked down the three stairs to the living room Rick was sitting on the couch. He was smiling. I'd hoped it was because of his dry new t-shirt. His hands were not visible.

Oh oh!

"Let me see your hands," I said.

Still smiling he held up both his hands.

I advanced toward the couch.

As fast as the Lone Ranger, the Cisco Kid, Roy Rogers, Gene Autry or all the cowboys of my childhood, he pulled a pistol from his sweat pants.

Bang, bang, bang or rather spirt, spirt, spirt.

The Maxine posting on Facebook fits my philosophy... I don't know how to act my age and if it means being stuffy and not being tempted to pour a glass of water on my husband on the right occasion then I don't want to learn.