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We're having some intense storms out here where I am. A few hours ago, when the storm was on the verge of being right on top of us, my husband was like, "Hey, wanna go for a walk?"

I was like, "Nah, look at the sky. We'll get rained on for sure."

So he was like, "That's fine if you wanna stay. I'm gonna go anyway. Be back in a bit."


And so he goes. A half hour later, he's still not back. The sky's getting darker. Lightning and thunder are starting up. I check the weather and see we have a tornado warning. And he's still not back yet.

So I go out and sit on the porch, looking anxiously up and down the street. Where the fuck is my husband? Did he get hit by lightning? Did the tornado secretly come and kill him before sneaking away? What is going on? The longer I sit the more terrible things I think, and the more terrible things I think the more freaked out I get. Finally I get so anxious that I start kind-of hyperventilating, accidentally swallow spit down my trachea, start coughing violently, and throw up cookies and cream ice cream all over my front sidewalk.

Two minutes later my husband comes strolling down the sidewalk. And I'm all like "WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, NATE? I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD." And he's like, "Oh I got a little turned around, sorry. Hey, did you puke?"

God, I love him and I hate him so much.

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