Today I was busy writing in my office which, if you’ll remember, is actually just an antique sewing machine shoved into the corner of a small walk-in closet.


Lolly had been having some quiet reflection time in our bedroom. I could tell as I passed by on my way to my office that she was pondering deeply. Reading. Saying prayers. Meditating. Gaining insight. I tried not to disturb her and quietly ducked into my little room and got busy writing.

After an hour or so, she opened the door. “Sweety,” she said lovingly. “I was just thinking about you and how grateful I am for you.” She looked at me tenderly.

I was touched. I was there in that little office working hard, writing, trying to focus. It was nice to think she had been reflecting on her love for me. “Thank you,” I said.

“No, thank you. Thank you for working so hard for our little family.” She came in and gave me a tearful kiss and a hug. I could tell she had been having very warm thoughts about me, and about us. Her hug was meaningful and heartfelt, and I felt so glad to be married to this wonderful, beautiful woman.

The moment was sweet and very tender. And then she started laughing. “Also, you should probably leave this closet.”


She was laughing so hard she was actually doubled over and couldn’t talk. She gained enough composure to utter, “Because I accidentally just farted. And it’s a bad one.”

We both lost it. I plugged my nose. And then we evacuated the closet, hand in hand, as the stench choked the room out in the way only a rancid intestinal emission in a small, enclosed room can.

“You should definitely write a blog post about this,” she said as we walked downstairs.

And so I did.

Her: “I hope the fact that I just farted didn’t ruin this intimate moment.”
Him: “Ruin it!? The fact that you felt comfortable enough to fart in front of me DEFINES this intimate moment.”
Photo attribution: here