Hours after she departed, I awoke to a glorious smell. I cracked my eyes open and saw a sausage, cheese, and egg McGriddle before me. Being held, unwrapped in the most perfect culinary come-hither pose, by my amazing wife, seflessly serving it to me in bed.
(If McDonald's served McBreakfast 24/7, I would weigh 400 lbs. I am powerless before teh egg, sausage, and muffin/pancake thingies.)
I took a bite and smiled the smile of a man who wakes from a blissful dream and finds out his dreams have come true. "Oh my God, I can't believe you picked this up for me and are serving it to me in bed."
"Is it the best thing ever?"
"It would only be better if you were also having sex right now?" she asked.
I thought for a moment. "Yes," I replied, "and if the TV was on and the Bears were playing in the Super Bowl."
Despite such sexy pillow talk, I wound up just eating the McGriddle. But a third of a dream is still better than making breakfast.