Hyperbole

Mike is the master of hyperbole. Today we woke up and he sat up and said groggily, "Rusty and Edison were curled up next to each other, and they were touching."

"Yeah," I said, "but probably not for long."

"For five hours," Mike replied, flopping back onto the pillows. "For forever, stretching across eternity."

"Right," I said, laughing. "And how do you know this."

"I have a mental picture," he said, turning over and mumbling into the sheets. "I can look at it whenever I want to think about them touching, and it keeps me warm."

I just laughed and started to get dressed for church. I love starting the day on a random note.