Mary and John were having yet another marital argument.
Mary, obviously both mad and upset, was having a go at him. “John, for heaven’s sake, why can’t you just talk to me once in a while?”
“Huh?” John responded, clueless as to what was her problem.
“Look around you!” she yelled as she pointed around the room. “Look at all these books. Your head is always buried in books. You don’t even know I’m alive!”
John had a lightbulb moment and suddenly realised what she was going on about. “Oh. I’m sorry”, he replied.
“You know, sometimes I wish I were a book. Then you’d at least look at me”, Mary said, determined not to give in easily.
“Hmmm”, John mumbled to himself in deep thought, “that’s not a bad idea. Then I could take you to the library every few days and change you for something more interesting”.
I believe that’s when the fighting started. Mary picked up a hardback copy of a historical fiction book and whacked John over the head with it. Rather a novel way of attacking your husband I guess. John is recovering well, having had 25 stitches above his left eye.
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