Last Friday night, I was sweeping the kitchen floor and noticed something crawling on the floor.
It was a tick.
A gross i-will-suck-your-blood-tick.
Jeff continued to doze on the couch.
Since he was no help, I took a napkin and scooped up the tick. I remembered reading somewhere about how to kill them. So, I killed it the way I knew.
Later that night, Jeff woke up and I informed him about the tick. This is the conversation that followed.
me: "...so I scooped it up with the napkin and took care of it."
Jeff: "how? Did you flush it?"
me: "no, I set it on fire."
Jeff: "You what?"
me: "I set it on fire. I read that is the only way to kill them or something."
Jeff: blank look.
me: "You can't crush them so you have to light them on fire or they won't die."
Jeff: "yeah, I'm pretty sure that is not true."
me: "yes it is!"
Jeff: "No. No it is not. You're thinking of when a tick is in you and you touch a match to it so it backs out."
Jeff: "You set it on fire???"
me: "yep. whoops."
Jeff: **mumbling and walking around of the room** "i'm marrying a serial killer.