And, he has been sick for like 2 weeks with some sort of flu or cold. He was on vacation for part of that, and last week was a sort of short week with Thanksgiving and all, but he still ended up working Friday and Saturday, calling in sick on Sunday (the last day of their work week) and again Monday, so he could finish lying around.
Monday afternoon he says, "Would you color my hair?" I looked at him and thought, sure, anything to help it look better. He wears it long but it is thin, and different lengths some places cause it breaks easily from all the color-treatments. Two weeks of lying around as much as possible did nothing to enhance the style, without all the white poking through. So he went and got the haircolor without looking at it, and I mixed it up and put it on his hair without so much as a glance at the box. I might add that my hair is naturally very black, but I have it colored (lightened just slightly) purple right now. I had bought black hair color for when the color mutates, I can go back to "normal." Whatever that is.
He got out of the shower and says, "Why is it black?" I said, "It isnt' black, it's Ash Brown. Must be something wrong with your eyes!" Then I looked at him. My husband, the Elder Goth. Tonto. Elvis. You get the idea.
I had made a pot of bean soup for supper, but he said he needed protein. Since I was out rounding up kids, I brought home hamburgers. He had been lying on the couch keeping the madness to a minimum with the younger ones while I was gone, so he just sat up and I sat beside him, eating burgers. I was using the laptop and watching TV, but I kept seeing him out of my peripheral vision. Finally, I turned to him and said,
"Can you sing like Wayne Newton?"
ROFLOL! A few minutes later, I said, "Oh, come on, sing Donke Schoen just once for me!"
He didn't really think it was funny. It was all I could do to keep from laughing so hard I was crying! I told him if people at work say anything about it, just tell them your wife wanted some strange so she colored your hair like a Goth.
Later that night, he was heading for bed in flannel shirt and sleeping pants, looking kinda bedraggled. I said, "I gotta tell ya, Elvis, you don't look so much like A Hunka Hunka Burning Love to me right now."
Man I am having a good time with this.
Last night he went to kiss me goodnight, and I said, "Only if you sing Donke Schoen for me."
I don't know how long this will take to fade, but I can see having a little fun with it for at least a few weeks to come. LoL.