I'm funny how? Funny like I'm a clown? I amuse you?

I don’t know how you manage to stay with someone if you don’t think s/he’s funny. Repeating movie lines, corrupting song lyrics, mocking Republicans and telling stories about people at work is the best part of being married. I have, on more than one occasion, laughed so hard at something the Mr. says that I can barely breathe, then I start making this high-pitched wailing noise, followed by tears—which makes him laugh harder, which makes me laugh harder, ad infinitum.

We’ve never had a rockin’ social life, but I’ve been happy to spend our evenings going out for cheap food and coming home to watch “Jeopardy” (Alex Trebek is a favorite target of our ridicule). The Mr. and I don’t have as much time to hang out and chat anymore, now that we have a baby and are both back to work. We haven’t been to a restaurant together since she was born and we try to catch “Jeopardy,” but one of us is usually pacing the floor with a screaming/crying/whimpering/almost-asleep baby at that time of day. We also haven’t had a full night’s sleep since she was born (and have each been sick once already from being run down). Thank goodness for e-mail, so we can synch up our schedules and check in. I started it off one day last week and here’s how it went:

Me: How you doin’?
Him: I feel foggy this morning. You?
Me: I feel foggy, too.
Him: I almost feel like I’m getting sick.
Me: Uh oh. That’s no good. Go home and drink lots of OJ and eat some chicken soup.
Him: Yeah, I wish I would have brought soup in my lunch.
Me: What are your symptoms?
Him: General malaise, disrespect for authority, projectile vomiting, etc.

Is it any wonder I’ve kept him around for nearly 15 years?