Not quite grasping the sanctity of MONDAY NIGHT FOOTBALL,
I plunked myself next to my new husband one Monday night to chat. He was distracted by the action on TV, and after being shushed a few times, I gave him a "look."
Immediately contrite, he picked up the remote.
"I'm sorry, honey," he apologized. "I'm being rude. You go ahead and talk -- I'll just turn up the volume."
Laura Roberts, thanks for the post.
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