Who has a story?

My husband complains that I am always telling stories. At the grocery store, walking on the beach, passing in the hall, or leaving church, I cannot just answer "fine" when someone asks "how are you?" I realize it is just a courtesy question, but if I'm not "fine" should I lie to get on with my life? It is worse for the other person if they ask, "how's work?" or "what do you do?" because I teach high school and my day is filled with annoyingly entertaining anecdotes about teenagers' antics. Just the other day, we were reading Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver in ninth grade English and a character in the novel answers the news reporter rudely by saying, "desde antes que tu cagabas en tus panales." One boy, who pretends he doesn't know Spanish, made a fool of himself by asking if cagaba was food. I responded (completely inappropriately) Maybe you eat it. Cagada is poop.