Hair on my back, foot in my mouth

Whenever James or I do something for the River Monster (bathe him, feed him, care for him), we remind him that he better remember all of that when he's looking at nursing homes for us. We figure we are taking great care of him, so he should repay the favor. Makes sense, right?!

Well, apparently my lovely husband has really been thinking about his days in Shady Meadows -- or wherever River puts us up -- because we had this conversation earlier this week:

James: Do i have hair on my back?
ReRe: No.
James: Good. When I'm old, i hope River puts me in a nursing home that regularly shaves my body hair. I don't want to be one of those old dudes covered in hair. I want to look good, so i can have my pick of the ladies and not get stuck with the chick who just poops on herself.
ReRe: Ummm? Where am I? Won't i be in the nursing home with you? Why would you need your pick of the ladies if I'm there?
James: Yeah, yeah. You'll be there. But you'll have dementia. So....
ReRe: So, it's ok to date then? Ok. I gotcha. Thanks for the insight Pat Robertson!

So note to Riv: daddy wants to be in a home that regularly shaves his body hair.
Second not to Riv: daddy probably won't live long enough to see said nursing home, and mama may be in jail!