The Married Version of "Sexting"

The night before I left for New Jersey a pivotal part of my plan failed - our three month old laptop died. DIED. Just stopped working.

Granted - it's our secondary computer...so not a lot of information was lost, but it was still a major inconvenience because (1) my husband had just finished six hours of work that he had not yet saved on his main computer and (2) I needed to take the craptop with me to get some work done while I was away.

I traveled up North hoping to use my mom's Playskool version of a laptop to get a last minute project done for work. Except her computer has the crack-whore version of Windows known as Vista. It wouldn't open my Excel files and I worked for hours trying to find a viable alternative.

Have I ever mentioned that my husband was an IT consultant in a previous life? In fact, that's how we met...but I digress. I texted him no fewer than 25 times asking for help and feeling sorry for myself.

But then I figured out the problem and fixed it myself - it was truly a week-before-Presidents' Day-miracle. So I sent my husband this text:

Me: I rule! (Imagine red rose petals strewn around a naked Mena Suavari).

Him: Me too. Imagine me just being my bad ass self. I was able to hook the laptop drive to my desktop and get the data off.

Me: You definitely rule more. You are the pumped up Kevin Spacey to my teenage cheerleader.

Him: Scratch that. The whole machine froze up and freaked out. What a POS.

And that, my readers, is the efficiency of marriage...the ability to start, ruin and finish a fantasy all in three minutes via a few typed out words.