trillonious monk

One day, my husband will come home to me and find me diligently working in this creative space—naked. He will not ask me why I am working naked because he will be my husband, and this will make him happy and will make him want to kiss me on the mouth. He will say, “Baby, what are you working on?” And even though my creative space will have heaps of colored pencils and paintbrushes of all sizes, they will only be there for creative inspiration. Or maybe they will be placed there ironically because my husband and I will have ironic humor, and we will laugh heartily at our ironic humor every day. We will say in unison, “Ha ha ha! Look at all these paintbrushes!” And in response to his question, I will say, “I am writing my masterpiece.” Then he will scoop me up in his nice, strong arms because he will be my husband, and he will have nice, strong arms. And we will make sex on the floor. Or somewhere in close proximity. Because the bedroom is too far away, and therefore the bedroom is inconveniently located at this time. Afterward, we will talk and laugh in muffled voices because we are too tired to do anything else. He will then get up and leave to get some take-out dinner since I am a writer and do not deal with such domestic things. He will know this and will understand this because he is my husband, and he will love me because I work diligently in my creative space—naked. This will be our life.
I am certain that we will be very happy.