"That's it," I yawn and stretch my arms above my head, "I'm going to bed. You coming?"
Rob doesn't look away from the TV but tips his chin up for a kiss. "Not tired, you go right ahead."
I roll my eyes. Rob does his best sleeping in the evening and by the time I'm ready for bed he's wide awake.
Truth is, I like to sprawl all over that king size bed and if I'm lucky, I'll be sound asleep before he and the dog come in and start their nightly snore-fest.
I'm shrugging out of my t-shirt when I spot Rob's wet smelly jeans on the bed. I freeze and my blood heats. This battle has been a stale mate far too long to suit me. "Robbb ..."
"What?" He lopes into the room and squints into the corners. "Find a spider?"
Like he moves this fast when I do find a spider. "Dammit Rob," I slam my hands to my hips, "Do not put your damned dirty clothes on my bed."
"They're not dirty."
"You were fishing," I hiss but when he starts to grin I slam from annoyance to righteous indignation and my voice ratchets higher, "They're wet and smelly and ..."
"It's my bed too."
Rob's chin tips forward and I know he's ticked. Too bad. "Fine, I'll make this easy for you." I lift his pants with my fingertips and fling them into the laundry basket, "next time you wipe out the bedspread I'm going to steal your credit card and order the most expensive bedding I can find. Got it?"
He gives me a sidewise look. "You wouldn't do that."