It came over me like a wave: resentment, bitterness, and anger. I was seeing red, and not because Valentine’s Day is coming up.
Why couldn’t he think to put it away JUST ONCE? I seethed, snatching the offending item with unnecessary force. Just then, Josh walked in.
“Hey babe!” He smiled and kissed me on the cheek. He started taking off his boots, those beat-up, brown things worn down from three different jobs in three different states, 20-hour days, 8-hour drives, blizzards and mudpits. And I stood there in my pretty house in my pretty clothes holding the thing he’d dropped on my immaculate floor, humiliated by my own anger.
Because I am an angry wife.