We were watching hockey and Rich was running his fingers through my hair. Me: "Ooh! You know what would be great right now?"

Rich: "I think whatever you're gonna say rhymes with flair thrushing."

Now if only I can get the Flyers to score while Rich is brushing my hair and I'll get a solid 90 minutes of petting just to keep from jinxing anything.

I am grumpy and my hair brusher has gone to play hockey himself so I'm going to go beat back the laundry beast in the bedroom floor.