Dear Husband,

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?

This piece originally appeared on Wonderoak Blog

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Jessica Johnston

Jessica Johnston is a writer and mom of four kids. She is an avid coffee drinker, risk taker, and TMI sharer. She is a firm believer in keeping it real and believes our imperfections bring us together. She writes at You can follow her there, on Facebook, and on Instagram.