My husband is a fan of the hammock. He will sneak off and climb in and disappear from the regular world. When he disappears, we disappear from his world, too. I spend a lot of my life ordering him OUT of the hammock.
In my aforementioned diatribe about the moldy swimsuits, towels, sheets, comforters, blankets and mattress, I mentioned that my husband believes I only work hard because I haven't trained my kids well-enough.
When I was re-reading my journal about our summer on the lake, I realized who exactly he had trained--and I didn't like the discovery.