If you didn’t know, mrbunny works from home. 
I (obviously) also work/write from home.

For a long time, I used the back bedroom as an office while mrbunny sat at the dining room table.

We’ve gone and sold the dining room table so he’s been using a little folding table in front of the tv in the den. Tiring of that, he set up a table in the empty formal living room.

Yesterday as I was going to set the table back up in my office (we’d been using it for garage sales at a friend’s house) he says “hey why don’t you set up in the living room with me? We can work side by side. I can have a suitemate of my sweet mate.”
No really, he did say that.

I said yes, picturing how we could get a big squishy comfy couch in that back bedroom and have a dark room in which to properly watch movies. Some people dream of large closets or bathrooms, not I; I want a home theatre so badly I can taste it. It tastes like fountain Dr. Pepper and movie theatre popcorn, in case you were wondering.

It has been less than 24 hours and already I want to kill him.
Or at the very least, maim him.

We started off fine. Working in peace, side by side. The very picture of marital harmony.

Twenty minutes later, the printer, located on my table, starts going.

The paper ejected from that printer simply says “Bite Me”.

He is nothing if not eloquent.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, nonproductive on my end, but uneventful nonetheless.

Wake up this morning, take the dogs out, fix a cup of coffee, head to my computer.
It should be noted that when I was setting up my desk I told mrbunny, “now the first time you point out that I’m “slacking” because I’m staring at the wall or the computer screen, or dancing in my chair, or playing a game… I will punch you in the nuts because that’s not slacking, that’s more likely me trying to work out a problem in my story and getting my mind off of it works best.”  He nodded, whether out of agreement or fear for the family jewels, I don’t know nor care.

Back to this morning, sit down and the first thing my lovely husband does is look at his watch and point out that I’m late, accompanied with the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen.
I know he is a smart man but there are times where I do wonder.

He is wisely quiet for a good while until the UPS man comes.

Mrbunny has a problem with buying the most random and useless crap. And he usually buys it after much studying and research. 
Today’s package was no different.

It was speakers and a subwoofer. For his ipod. For when he sits at his computer. 

I have headphones on and all of a sudden I feel the floor as it shaking to the soulful sounds of Digital Underground and the Humpty Dance.
Eloquent and impeccable taste in music.

My “shut it off or die” look didn’t take hold until after the entire neighborhood and I were treated to a very loud sampling of “Rhythm is a Dancer”.
Like I said, impeccable taste in music.

Thankfully he did turn off the music after he assured me that we would both love it. 
Jury is still out.

Day goes on, quite uneventfully. Mechanic place calls and says our Jeep is ready to be picked up. So we head out.
On our drive home, mrbunny tells me he has the perfect idea.
He says, “You should name your book Hobbit Pussy. People will buy it just out of curiosity.”

If I’m not in jail in the next few days, look for Hobbit Pussy in bookstores near you, winter of 2013.