It's Only Fair

The Vansome finally (after how many years?) got around to reading my blog. In the interest of equal time and all that, I feel compelled to spill about one of my quirks. (See My Quirky Husband .)

Last night we were watching "Knowing," the Nicolas Cage movie. I had my hand wrapped around the Vansome's, mostly because my hand was cold. At a particularly creepy part, I squeezed his hand and he jumped. I thought he was startled, but he was actually in pain. Unbeknownst to me, he had recently injured his hand and, as usual, I gravitated to the injury and applied maximum damage. And therein lies my own supernatural talents.

The Vansome is not one to announce when he has an injury or some other ache or pain. I will eventually find it on my own, however, because I will at some point grab, squeeze, bump, press on, lean into, or otherwise cause additional pain to the exact spot. It doesn't help for him to warn me in advance, because I will block that information from my mind and injure him there again anyway. I'm pretty sure it's not intentional. I keep claiming that, anyway. I do feel sufficiently guilty every time.

The Vansome says I'm dangerous. I don't think he means "in an endearing way", either. He also claims to not find it endearing when I frequently burst into tone-deaf song, but I don't really take him seriously about that one. I don't believe that my singing is truly physically painful to him, but then again I do have that knack.