Which I wasn’t sure about
October 25, 2016
Yesterday around ten am or so, I wrote my journal of a blog post. I laid out how I was feeling. Then I went about my day. I cleaned so many dishes by hand (stupid broken dishwasher, again) that my hands are still waterlogged. I was distant every time my hubby called me on the phone. I made my snide remarks. I wasn’t nice. I was hurt. I didn’t feel like I had to make him feel good while I was feeling so bad. I watched some silly TV and put all the kids in bed by 8, and was there myself by 8:30 pm. Hubby came home to a dark and quiet house. I didn’t wait up for him. Something I normally do. Even if I go to bed, ten minutes after he’s gotten home. I wait up. I scheduled the post to post late at night and put it out of my mind. I was done. Done with caring about how little others care.
But even though I didn’t directly say anything to him all day, he knew. Ten years of marriage, he knows me. And something that doesn’t happen often, happened. A dozen of white, apologetic roses appeared in my bed with me to wake me up and say sorry for him. We talked. He heard me.
Now does this fix everything? Time will tell. But since I whined about him, I thought I’d give him so good points back. He is trying to make it right.