Imtelligence Is Also Skin Deep
My wife briefly tries to teach me basic skin care
“You’re being creepy,” my wife whispered. “Stop it.”
We were sitting next to each other on an airplane that hadn’t left the gate. I was within my ultra narrow economy seat space, and I knew better than to bring up the Mile High Club until the seatbelt sign was off.
“How am I being creepy?” I asked.
“You’re staring at me from a foot away. Stop it.”
“I’m trying to figure out what you’re doing,” I admitted.
Allie had been diligently applying sunscreen to her face and neck. Now she was working on her exposed arms.
“You’ve seen me apply sunscreen before. I do it every morning.”
“Every morning?”
“Evidently seeing and observing are different things for you,” Allie smirked.
“Okay, I know what you’re doing. I don’t know why. This plane isn’t a convertible.”
Allie rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, if we’re exposed to sunlight in the next three hours, we have way bigger problems than cancer.”
“Are you serious?” Allie asked.
“I used the word seriously, so by definition that means I’m serious. And you call me unobservant?”
