Ninety five per cent of the time, I get along great with ex-h., but I swear, I could be missing an arm, ask him if he's seen it on the ground somewhere, and he'd answer, "Oh, you have an empty sleeve? Huh."
This pertains to the fat lip I got this afternoon from bashing myself on the ladder, en route to the roof again. I ask, "Hey, is my lip swollen?" He says, "Nope," I go inside, and bingo! Fat lip.
This is the same man who failed to notice when I turned completely yellow from jaundice due to Hep A.