A Slight Case of Dyslexia

Greg's poor feet. They crack and bleed when the weather changes. I try to convince him to go get a pedicure, but he's not positive that he's manly enough to sport hot-pink toes. The other night, he had some pretty painful cracks on the sides of his feet, so I put on my  Florence Nightingale cap and fixed him up.

Last night, I was in bed reading when Greg came in. He plopped down beside me and said, "Thanks for healing my feet" (obviously referring to the other night). Granted, I was reading and really into my book, but I didn't quite hear him correctly. I put down my book and said, "Thanks for feeling my heat? What are you talking about?" He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "What are you talking about?" I had no idea! What in the world does "feeling my heat" even mean???

Then, I realized that I had switched the "f" and the "h" in my brain. I broke out in uncontrollable laughter. Then Greg started laughing. For the next fifteen minutes, one of us would just burst out in spontaneous laughter.

It's the little things...