So, my husband moved over the weekend.
I know, i know. To many of you a resounding quake of shock and awe is rolling beneath your planted
The thing is, though I have done my fair share of whining and complaining over the past six weeks, on this blog, I was embarrassed to tell you how bad things had gotten.
It was ugly, you guys, and at the end of the day I have felt only guilt and responsibility for the situation with Chw…
You see, as you may remember, I was sick.
And i couldn’t sleep much, or in connected spurts at all. It was pretty miserable and while he was willing to tolerate a few nights of his disturbed beauty sleep, he had to admit pretty quickly that a grumpy bear of a father/husband and a completely checked-out ill mom/wife are a bad combination.
So, he left me…
For the couch.
And he’s been there ever since.
And it was sad, and yet not sad all at the same time.
But over the weekend, though I still struggle sleeping and breathing and coughing and actually staying asleep- he deemed me well enough for him to move home to our bed.
These are good days ahead folks…
I love my well rested man… (now let’s just hope nothing is lingering and he doesn’t catch the plague I now call September…)