Annika, this is your life.

Last night while laying in bed in that pre-sleep state that tends to haunt us for a period of time anywhere between one minute and five hours, Will and I had an interesting conversation.

Here's how it went: Will named all of the things I do that make him angry. I defended myself as best I could. We decided which things I would no longer do.

Because we were tired, we only covered two of my various and sundry behaviors that bother him:

• Summoning elder gods in the living room: I have agreed, reluctantly, to stop doing this. It seems that the main problem is not the elder gods themselves, nor even the summoning, but the sticky mess that is left afterwords. I told him that I was going to clean it up, and if he had just left it alone I would have done so eventually, but does he listen? No. So no more playdates with Cthulu for me.
  
  
• Putting curses on his mother: We left this one at a draw. He says that it will come back to bite me in the ass, I say that at 58 none of the curses I inflict on her will be really noticeable. I mean, her skin is going to sag a little anyway, right? And what's a little insanity at that age? Still, I suspect that he will win in the end.

Before all that, I tried to eat his cockles. He thanked me for something-or-other from the bottom of his heart; I just wanted a wee taste. Honestly - he is so oversensitive.