*Shriek*

So I'm not the sort of loving, caring wife who gets up with her husband at 4:45am and keeps him company over a plate of breakfast before he goes to work. I'm also not the sort of loving, caring wife who packs her husband's lunch for him and haven't done so since about six months into our marriage when he alternately whined about not having enough to eat ("Are you trying to tell me I need to diet?") or complained I'd packed too much (How in the world did you expect me to eat all this?")

Instead, I doze while he gets himself breakfast (cold cereal) and rouse enough for the good-bye peck. I can't see but a shadow in the dimness of the bedroom and couldn't see him in full light without my glasses, anyway. He could go to work dressed in a kilt and turban with a sword at his side and I wouldn't be the wiser.

It's how he comes home that I see.

He came home today without his mustache.

~Shriek~

When I exclaimed, he said he'd had it for thirty years and he was tired of it. I told him that it's only been a little better than twenty-six years. When he disagreed, I reminded him that early on in our dating days he'd shaved his mustache and I'd told him that I liked his mustache, ordered him to grow it back, and threatened to shave my head if he shaved it off again.

"No," he chuckled, "you said if I shaved it off again, you'd leave. Now you need to live up to your end of the bargain!"

Bargain, hah! It was supposed to be a threat!

His naked upper lip unnerves me in two ways. One, I really liked his mustache. Two, I can now see that his lip is identical to his younger brother's and I have the uncomfortable feeling that I'm kissing the wrong guy. Yikes!