Living with Himself these many years has been an adventure.
You see Himself is a type A diabetic. He's lived with it since he was 10, against the odds. Often he has a low blood sugar reaction, and that usually at night.
One night, kids tucked in, ranch chores done, he went off to bed, and proceeded to have a bad reaction.
Now we lived outside a small rural town, everyone pretty much knew everyone else. So, when I called 911, three of the four volunteer firemen that came, worked with me at the school district. The two EMT's that came knew Himself from past encounters. The two county mounties that showed up were having a slow night and knew us, when they heard the call on the radio.
Now you've got eight guys, our kids, myself and Himself all in our bedroom. I'm in the middle of the bed trying to get glucose gel down Himself, while our audience is considering the best course of action.
When suddenly Himself opens his eyes, gives me a startled look and loudly says "Where's Stella?", "right here babe" cause I'd agree to most anything to keep him alive, where upon Himself glares a me and says, "Your Not Stella".
I look around in the total silence that follows his proclamation, to find ten faces staring back at me. Because you see they all know I'm Not Stella, too.