Teacup Conversations

If this is coffee, please bring me some tea; but if this is tea, please bring me some coffee. 

--Abraham Lincoln 

I'm afraid that my title is slightly misleading: I own no teacups, and the more's the pity.

But Chris and I do have several conversations late in the evening, he on his computer and I lounging in a my favorite papasan nearby spouting off madness. Sometimes tea is involved--Sleepy Time, usually, or some other decaffeinate herbal drowned in vanilla creamer. Some conversations are about the game he's playing. Sometimes it's on the meaning of life. Sometimes it's about work or dreams to change the world. Sometimes politics (which usually leaves us in an invigorating sour mood--nothing is more energizing than feeling you could do the job better . . . even though you don't want the job and probably couldn't do it anyways). Other times, I try to shock and appall him with random facts on pregnancy I've researched, just so he'll better appreciate what I will one day go through while he simply makes midnight runs for avocado or whatever oddity I will crave but never eat under any other circumstance. 

No, I'm not pregnant. 

I'm just a planner. In grade school, I planned for high school. In high school, I planned for college. In college . . . I planned little . . . except midnight runs to Taco Bell and how to save up for a semester overseas. When I graduated, I planned a wedding. I got married . . . it seemed only logical to plan one or both of the next reasonable steps: home-buying or pregnancy. God is teaching me to live in the present :] 

But, yes, all that to say, there is no baby. Not yet, anyways. 

ANYWHO . . . 

Tonight's topic?

Treadmills, Being Buried Alive, and the Benefits of Treadmills in Case of the Latter   

Me:Can I ask you something?   
Chris: You mean other than the question you just asked me?   
Me: Pfft. When we move out of this tiny apartment, so we have room . . .  Can I get a treadmill? I know they HAVE to have them for cheap on Craig's List. 
Chris: Uuuuh . . . house or treadmill?   
Me: Treadmill is much cheaper than a house.  
Chris: Every little bit helps.    
Me: Don't say that. It makes me not want to spend money on groceries *wink   
Chris: Ok, money does you no good when you're a corpse, so . . .   
Me: Coffins are expensive! I don't know why, because it's not like anyone can admire it after the funeral . . . or you can enjoy them . . . or the padding inside.    
Chris: They have padding?? 
Me: Oh yes, so the corpse is comfy. Cause you know, you can totally enjoy it after you've gone.   
Chris: Well, I mean, if I get buried alive, I'll be sure to enjoy it.    
Me: I AM TERRIFIED OF BEING BURIED ALIVE!!! Like in an avalanche or a landslide or a coffin! Just imagine all that tangible suffocating darkness, swallowing you, and you can't move or figure out which direction is up as you suffocate and freeze to death.    
Chris: You'd suffocate before you'd freeze.    
Me: Doesn't matter! They're both dreadful.  
Chris: It's not like you'd need to know the direction up, anyways. You'd be dead before you could do anything.   
Me: Not true! People dig their way out. I've seen National Geographic disaster specials, and people dug out.  
Chris: Ok, so it's possible to survive.    
Me: But I can't dig out! I'm a weakling.
Chris: Hence the treadmill? 
 Me: Exactly! I use a treadmill, work out, get strong, and then I'll be able to dig out of being buried alive!

I don't know about you, but I think it's pretty foolproof . . . and that I'll be getting a treadmill once we move. Yup.

Oh, and that was the abridged conversation. It only got weirder . . .

This is how I spend my evenings with the hubs, laughing and discussing the outrageous. It makes for a great night :]

Do you have any weird phobias? Or favorite tea time topic?