After being up way too late last night finishing up the CAF financials for today’s audit, I was up two hours early this morning to get out to Camarillo on time. As I’m coming out of the bathroom after showering and preparing to face the ordeal:
The Long Suffering Wife: “You can turn on the light.”
Me: “What if I don’t want to turn on the light? What if I’m still upset with the light over that little tiff and I’m not speaking to her, let alone trying to turn her on? What if I don’t care if the light ever gets turned on again? Serves her right after that little ‘tete-e-tete’ the light had with Rex, and while she says that it was just innocent word play, *I* saw how they were looking at each other and *I* know that it was much, much more than that! So I will NOT be turning on the light any time soon! Let the little minx just stew on that for a while – she knows where to find me when she’s ready to apologize!”
Well, at least that’s the way it played out in my head. Not sure if any of the drama or counterfeit angst actually made it past my larynx. I was pretty tired.