Kate and I are sprawled in the living room, faithful dog Mollie on the floor at our feet.

“I feel like a you-know-what,” I say, mindful of Mollie’s ever-alert ears.

“An ice cream bar?” Kate asks.

“Um, a you-know-what,” I say again, eyeing Mollie significantly, “although I wouldn’t say no to an ice cream bar.”

“Oh,” she says. “I was just thinking about how I wanted an ice cream bar and I assumed you meant the same thing.”

Mission? Accomplished.