I shall stop telling all these tales one of these days...maybe.

I know my husband loves me. 

He shows this by oiling the toilet ring, saran wrapping the commode under the ring, placing duct tape (sticky side up) in my underwear, sneaking into the bathroom and tying knots in my pants legs. Hubby uses the string poppers from July fireworks and ties them in the most wonderful places;  the commode ring he has left up, the kitchen cabinet doors, the phone!  When these are tied then pulled on there is an explosion, small but very affective and very humourous to the monster I married in 1972.

I have discovered a few ways to pay him back.  To quote him, "Paybacks are hell!"

Hubby can not stand the smell of Ben Gay.  I am lavish in my use of it, it helps my sore spots and adds joy to my life because hubby enjoys the smell.

One day, of many, he had been especially sneaky and conniving and ornery.  I decided it was time to put him in his place.  I slathered a dry wash rag with Ben Gay and placed it in his pillow case.

When he came to bed, he sniffed me, that wasn't where the smell was coming from...I was asleep, right!  He flops his pillow over and the smell doubles, he is looking for the origin of the smell.  I am quietly enjoying his suffering but was having a hard time not laughing.  Hubby was flopping around so much he could not feel me shaking with silent laughter in the bed beside him.

When he starts talking out loud about me, I act like he has awakened me and ever so innocently ask, what's wrong honey.  By this time the light is on, he is pulling back the covers and looking under the bed!  Still flopping that pillow as if what was not there before would be, the next time he looked.

I am weak, I felt sorry for him, I confessed!  I pulled the Ben Gay rag from the pillow case.

Once again I had proved you can't out trick a trickster...and I loved every minute of it.

Oh, honey, by the way, paybacks are hell.