Yesterday I mentioned on Twitter it was gun cleaning day, which led to the following conversation with my fellow Carina Press author, Cathy Pegau, which I’ll share here because it amused me and not everybody’s on Twitter.
Me: He won’t let me have the .22 painted pink, which is why I need my own.
Cathy: Every woman needs her own, I think. Especially when the apocalypse hits.
Me: Yes. Mr S would grab the gun, trip me, then run like hell.
Cathy: Heh. At least he wouldn’t shoot you in the leg. Tripping gives you a chance.
Me: That’s a sign of true love.
And that’s why we’ve managed nineteen years of marriage—when the apocalypse comes, I know the man won’t shoot me in the leg.