Last night in bed, I couldn't get comfortable.
Me: I can't get comfortable. I'm restless.
Me: I blame you.
Obviously, he was trying to go to sleep or something.
Me: I blame you for everything, you know. Even traffic in DC. Even scented candles.
Him: I know, and I let you. It does seem to make you feel better, and I know that I am in all things impervious to blame.
Then I tied him up in the blankets and sawed off his head with my forearm. No, not really. I still like him too much to decapitate him.
At least I know I have an open ticket now, for blame that is. And I am willing to share. Feel free to blame Dan for everything from your lost dog to your broken toe. He is, after all, I M P E R V I O U S. No sense letting that go to waste.