This September will mark 21 years of life with my husband. And in that 21 years, he's scared the tar out of me more times than I could ever count. He's gotten me with the run-of-the-mill trick of jumping out from behind things like doors and cars and shower curtains. But I'm so easy that often times he does it without even trying. I can be standing, folding laundry, and find myself letting out a squeal when I turn, not expecting to see him standing there.
And in that same 21 years, I have been completely unsuccessful at squaring the account. In fact, for 21 years my success rate at startling him has been zero. Not. One. Time. Not even a flinch. Until this last Saturday. And all it took was standing behind a door with this.
I may only have one tally in my column but I feel completely avenged.