At around 10:30 this morning, Sean and I were discussing where we should go for lunch. (Our 8 AM breakfast must have already metabolized and evaporated.) He suggested a Chinese restaurant called Sesame Garden. He’d eaten there the other day with friends and enjoyed it. He wanted to go back and thought that I would like the food, too.
I went online and checked Sesame Garden’s website. “Hours are from 11:00 to 4 PM on Sunday,” I read off their home page. “They’re closed right now.”
“You know what they call that restaurant when it’s open?” Sean asked.
“Open Sesame,” I said. And: “Oh god.”
We are not the kind of schmoopy married people who finish each other’s sentences. But because I’ve known my husband for so long, I am able to deliver the punch lines of his corny jokes.
I don’t know which is worse.