Last night Mark and I were talking when I was suddenly reminded of something. "Hey, L's husband is going to call to talk to you about a vasectomy."
He kissed my neck, distracting me from the gargantuan error I made in that sentence and replied, "I'm not qualified [kissed me again]. I'm a carpenter [kissed me once more]. It'll really hurt."
And then we dissolved into giggles and fell off the bed.