Things that have been said in my house in the last week:

J: "I'm pretty sure that you'd taste like bacon. Mmmm, wife bacon."
Me: "Seriously? Gross, dude. So you'd cannibalize your own wife?"
J: "Well, yeah, if I was going to die of starvation and you were the only food left."
Me: "I would rather die. That's awful, John. I could never do that to you."
J: "Well, it's not like I'd KILL you to cannibalize you, but if you were already dead, you're just meat you don't need anymore..."

(Via text message to Chase)

Me: I think I have swine flu.
Me: I am dying, I'm quite sure.
Me: When I came home from dinner @ Teri's, my fever was 99 and 2 hours later it was 103.
Chase: Swine Flu? Sounds like it. Better eat some bacon while you can.
Me: that was a horribly unsympathetic and unfeeling thing to say. I'm dying and you're going to feel bad that those were your last words to me.
Chase: Can I have your stuff?

I am currently assembling a list, writing down the things that happen in my house that make me feel like I'm living in a sitcom. Eventually, I'll have enough for a show. Or two. Or maybe a book.