I want to talk to you about the longest minutes of my life. Those minutes are the minutes that are between the time you said you’d be home, and the time you actually arrive.
If you say 5:30 p.m. and you are home at 5:45 p.m., I survive ten lifetimes in those fifteen minutes. I was looking like Kate Middleton until 5:31 and it all went to crap. By the time you roll up, I look like a Bergen from Trolls.
Those minutes are WHY wine was invented—I am pretty sure.
I know you aren’t trying to play games with my sanity. I know you don’t realize that you just doused my emotions with lighter fluid and lit a match. You work hard and I appreciate you.
I can hold down this fort just as long as I need to (hours, days, weeks)…just not five minutes after you said you’d be home.
Thank you for understanding.
ANYONE ELSE FEEL THIS WAY?? Why are those minutes like 45 hours long?
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