You know, I don't love dh for big things, like supporting me (literally and figuratively) through school, or the indulgences he allows me, or the shinies he puts on my fingers and toes and ears, although these things help, I ain't gonna front (sorry, too much MTV and VH1 *ahem*)! It's for things like this:

Scene: Upon arriving home from school.
TCWH (opening door): M'mm smells like bacon in here!
Dh: Well, I had a bacon sandwich!
TCWH (approaching kitchen): It REALLY smells like bacon in here!
Dh: Well, I REALLY had a bacon sandwich.
TCWH - exits stage left, to kitchen, reappears to notice that husband is frantically lighting candles throughout the apartment.
TCWH: What are you doing?
Dh:I'm trying to cover up the smell!
TCWH: Of bacon?
Dh: More like bacon and ass!

Can y'all imagine that sandwich?

HEY! READ ME! Judging from the comments, I lead people to believe that dh had some gas. Oops. I failed to mention that our house just smelled like ass because, well, it just did. Ass and bacon. Ass, not gas. Apologies.