Football Face

I ring the doorbell. He lets me in. We smooch hello. I walk toward the table and set down my purse and switch to my indoor glasses. And what should meet my eyes first but a particularly hideous, yet matching and in excellent condition, couch and loveseat appointing the living room. I say nothing. He makes the football face* and remarks, "I really hate this furniture." We laugh. The evening is off to a grand start.

*football face refers to this smirky expression he makes, which I find adorable, that includes a curled lip, scrunched brow and implied eyeroll. If and when permission is granted, I shall most definitely post a photo.