This morning after we got out of bed, Jason and I discussed our plans for the day. I was going grocery shopping. He said,
"I believe I will go to Sally's."
Sally's. As in Sally Beauty Supply. The place where he bought the brush for his beard. Which was askew.
And although I was afraid, I asked.
"Why? WHY do you want to go back to the Sally Beauty Supply?"
And he said, "The brush I bought? I'm just not sure about it. I mean, it feels okay, you know, when I hold it? But the bristles are a little bit pokier than the old brush I had."
"The bristles are POKIER?" I gasped.
"Yeah, pokier," he nodded. Oblivious. "Sharper? I don't know. I just don't like it as much, even though aesthetically it's pleasing and the weight of it is just right. I don't know. Maybe I should just keep it. I don't know if I can find another one that's looks just right like that. But the bristles. The bristles. I just don't know."
And so I said the only logical thing I could think of.
"Can I buy some pot from you?"
He didn't think that was funny at all.