Roxanne on marriage: She says to be sure to check the label when reaching for wipes for your private parts.

After two plus decades of marriage, I still can’t imagine a better partner than Hubs with whom to navigate this adventure called life. Part of what makes our marriage great, IMO, is that we laugh together—a lot—inspiring this haiku:

The secret sauce for

long-term relationships has

got to be laughter.

Here are a few examples of what’s cracked us up lately:

Scene #1

I’m in my home office, working, while Hubs is in the adjacent living room. I get an email letting me know that an item we bought online is on its way.

Me: Hey, our table has shipped.

Hubs: Mine’s working just fine.

Me: Huh? What are you talking about?

Hubs: I mean I’m having no trouble getting on the Internet.

Me: What does that have to do with the fact that our table has shipped?

Hubs: Oh. I thought you said, “Our cable is sh*t.”

Scene #2

As a result of consuming a “white” low-fiber diet as part of my colonoscopy prep, I got a yeast infection. Since Hubs does the grocery shopping, I asked him to pick up some Monistat cream at the supermarket. He graciously agreed to do so, but then he called from the store.

Hubs (in a near-whisper): I’m in the feminine products aisle at the store, and I’m confused.

Me: I can barely hear you—what?

Hubs (a little louder): I’m looking at all these things of, uh, you know, medicine, and I don’t know what to buy.

Me: I just need some Monistat.

Hubs (in a near-whisper again): I know, but there’s cream, suppositories, one-, three- and seven-day versions—what the hell do I get?

Me: Why are you whispering?

Hubs (whispering): I don’t know.

Me: Well, just get me the three-day dose of cream.

Hubs: Okay.

Me: Thanks, honey!

Scene #3

I’m in the recovery room after my colonoscopy. Hubs is with me; we’ve just gotten word from the gastroenterologist that everything looks fine, and I can go home. Still a little woozy from the sedation, I begin to get dressed. I spy a container of wipes on the sink and decide to freshen my nether region a bit before putting on my underpants.

Me: F*ck!That burns like hell—what the…?

Hubs: What’s wrong?

Me (looking at the container of wipes): These are friggin’ sanitary wipes for solid surfaces, not skin!

Hubs: I guess there’s a reason they tell you not to drive or sign any legal papers after you have sedation, huh?

Me: Ya think? Jaysus, my butt hurts. Kinda gives new meaning to the phrase “Fire in the hole,” huh?

Scene #4

Hubs and I are talking about what to have for dinner. I suggest fish tacos.

Hubs: That sounds good. Can we have them with that aureole sauce?

Me: You mean aioli?

Hubs: Yeah, that.

Scene #5

I’m in the kitchen, and Hubs walks in from the den:

Hubs: There’s cat vomit on the stairs.

Me: Did you clean it up?

Hubs: It looks like it’s just a big fur ball.

Me: You got close enough to see that, but you didn’t clean it up?

Hubs: Well, I thought you’d want to know.

Me: Well, now I do. Can you please clean it up?

Hubs (sighing): Oh, all right.

So, what do you think? Can you relate? Got some scenes from your own marriage to share? Please do!

Roxanne Jones writes Boomer Haiku (www.boomerhaiku.com), a blog that takes a mostly light-hearted and often irreverent look at life as a baby boomer as we move through midlife and beyond. She earns her living as a freelance copywriter specializing in health and medicine. Follow her on Twitter @RoxJonesWriter.

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