The conclusion of my fit-throwing departure-turned-fear of husband’s wrath of Wednesday night: I was wrapping up the writing of that post as I heard dearest’s footsteps coming down the stairs, 4:45 am- time for the gym. I braced myself for the worst. “Are you still writing?” was his first question. I told him that I had slept for a few hours and was awakened by my incessant thoughts and came down to write about it. We chatted a bit, as I nervously waited for the bomb to drop. No bomb. “I came back about 12:30 and you were conked out,” I said. “Came back?” he said, “You left?”
He didn’t even know I was gone.
Boy, do I feel stupid.