Dear beloved husband,

I am sorry I have been such a crank-o-potamis the past few days. It’s just that literally, everything you do is annoying me. For example, you know how you drank most of my beers? You know, the kind you don’t like that much but is my favorite? And how you are always putting the jeans you wore for a couple of hours on top of my fresh clean ironing pile? Or how after I fold your shirts carefully and go to put them away, your drawer looks like it was ransacked by thieves searching for hidden valuables? And then, of course, there is how I spent two hours in the kitchen making lunch foods out of left overs, and you ate nothing until I was about to put dinner in the oven. Those things made me want to kick you. Maybe in the shin, or perhaps a little higher.

However, and I mean this, I fully understand that it’s not you; it’s me. Something has thrown me off. I would bet my life savings, (because heck I don’t actually earn much of any money anyways), that it was something you did. There WAS that dream I had that you went out on Christmas Eve, got wasted, did the nasty in a hotel room with a girl named Sharon, and totally ruined Christmas morning. That was pretty much awful of you. How could imaginary dream you do that to our family? Selfish bastard.

Regardless, you have been endlessly patient with my cool, grumpy demeanor. You’ve invited me on runs, (didn’t you remember I was committed to doing an Insanity workout asshole… oh sorry I digress). You made the bed, even though I was the last one out of it. You unloaded the dishwasher, played with the kids, invited me to watch a movie, and kissed me goodnight and cuddled with me even when I was as responsive to your affection as a dead fish. I may have even been as smelly as something that died because I didn’t bother to shower before bed… or at any other time… for a couple of days.

Therefore, I will not kick you in the shin or anywhere else. I will take a shower so that I do not smell. And I will reluctantly say thank you. I love you. And, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. However, if you don’t stop putting your dirty clothes on top of my clean laundry and drinking my beer, I may accidentally rub my sweaty armpit on your pillow.

Yours always,