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.