It's been incredibly hot in the apartment (no AC, just a bunch of fans of various sizes), and today Comrade and I were both feeling particularly lazy. Like most people, when we get hot and lazy, our vocabularies dwindle, andwe communicate through vague nouns and random hand gestures.
He was working at his desk making a Pokerarium while I was confirming that just because I really enjoy most of Jonathan Hickman's Image work doesn't mean his Avengers run wasn't a tedious drizzle of continuity porn disguised as an interesting event comic.
One of the giant fans was pointed at him and his desk. The other was pointed at me on the bed.
Comrade got up and headed over to the bed, so we could watch the last Capaldi episode of Doctor Who on my continuity ("Twice Upon A Time" doesn't exist, after it aired it was eliminated from the time line so no one would ever have to suffer through it again).
Me: "Oh yea. Hot."
He goes to lay down. I point at the fan. "Uhhhh. Hot?"
He squints at me.
"Hot." I say. Point at the fan, and then make a twirling gesture.
Comrade turns around and begins to shimmy as some form of erotic dance. After about ten seconds, he smiles and begins to lay down.
"That was great." I say. "But could you turn the fan around so we don't get too hot while we watch the show?"
He turns the fan around "I. Am. Mortified."
"And hot." I offer.