He pulls his CPAP mask away just long enough to say. "The air conditioning is on. Its been on since March. Turn off the air conditioning and you can turn on the heater."
"Fine." again muffled.
"If I die I'm gonna hurt you." I add for emphasis.
"You're mean. Just wait. You won't be laughing when my ghost plucks your ass hairs out one by one." I warn. He starts laughing into his mask hard enough that he starts to choke.
By now he's choking as much as he's laughing and he's not even close to being done. It's one of those things you can tell after so many years of loving the same person.
"Stop it I can't breathe." he says when he tugs his mask down one last time.
By now I'm warm enough to sleep, but I certainly won't tell him that.
We have had a million moments like this in our 13 years together. Things nobody else will ever fully understand. If you do understand, it's because you've had some of your own. There is something to be said for the everyday. It gets you through a whole hell of a lot of reluctant compromise and dutiful stand-by-your-man(significant other)-ness. Life isn't always pretty and it certainly isn't perfect, but there is perfection in it, especially moments like this.

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