My spouse is considerate and kind. Always checking in on my emotional state. Maybe it is because I teeter on the edge of insanity or, perhaps, my mind wanders aimlessly without supervision. Probably both. On Tuesday, that felt like a Monday – this is common after a long weekend – he asked the guarded question, “Are you okay?”. So sweet. But, to be honest, I had no idea why he was asking. I felt okay. I didn’t feel like I was giving off signals to indicate otherwise. So, I looked at him like he was nuts.
“Why are asking me if I am okay?” Now, to be fair, about an hour before, I darted out of our bedroom in a panic. It was 9:52 and Bailey was going to be late to work. “You need to hurry up. Bailey is going to be late.” He smirks and says, “I already took him”. This is what happens when I am completely immersed in my revision process. The house could be on fire and I would not even notice. Then he asked,”Didn’t you notice that I put on pants?” Look, if I didn’t notice they left, how would I see that he has pants on? In fact, why is putting on pants such a momentous occasion for him?
I digress, as usual. (Aren’t you glad you don’t reside in my head?) Anyway, I gave him my best, “what the f*** are you talking about” look. He laughs and says, “I am asking if you are okay because an Amazon delivery truck just drove by and it didn’t stop here”. Isn’t he adorable? Maybe I have a little bit of a problem. I can’t help it really. The attraction of having things delivered to my door is too much for me to ignore. I never have to deal with people. I don’t have to go down a different aisle to hide from individuals that I don’t want to talk to . I can even shop in my pajamas without ridicule. It is perfection.
He amuses me. Silly man. “That truck might not be stopping, but there is another one that will be here today”. We laugh. He probably thinks I need help. That might be true. Sometimes after I order something, I realize that I have forgotten an item. Then I have to place another order. Maybe I should make a list. I still need to figure out how to shut off the delivery notification because both Bryce and Brian are alerted to my addiction. I prefer to keep it a secret, but it really is hard to hide all the boxes that are piled up in our recycling bin. Look, I am okay as long as Amazon stays in business. Otherwise, I will be the lady in the corner rocking back and forth, talking to myself.
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