Tell me I'm pretty in the middle of something I'm saying. I ordinarily hate being interrupted but for this? I'll make an exception.
I was inanely chattering to Scott about the new gerbils and how they'd taken a ton of bedding overnight and moved it up the little tube to the place where they made their nest and you can't even see them anymore and...
"You're pretty," He says with a goofy look on his face.
I lost my train of thought.
See, that man knows how to keep a marriage fresh after 20 years of togetherness, doesn't he? That or he was trying to get me to just stop talking. Either way, he knows me.