You know those movies where the husband is a slave to his job and always running late and missing big events in his child's life (you know, showing up at the baseball field and it's empty) and running to the drugstore at 11:15 PM to pick up flowers, with the futile hope that he can save his anniversary from being a complete disaster? Yet, when he arrives home, his disgruntled wife is already asleep, a table for two set in the dining room with the candles burned down and flickering. He breathes out. Epic fail... yet again. I am that husband.
I sympathize with every scenario in which the hard-working husband just wants to come home and die into his bed without contributing to the home or family in any way...because I feel that way most nights. Every stereotypical husband/wife argument that has ever ended in "You don't pay enough attention to me! All you care about is work!" and "I'm doing this for YOU!", I feel you.
Guess where Thayner was the night of our anniversary last week? Watching a beautiful sunset and a lightning storm come into the Salt Lake Valley all. by. himself. Guess where I was? In my cubicle preparing tax returns, receiving texts from Thayne's siblings such as: #sololife, #singleforever,
Guess where Thayner was the night of our anniversary last week? Watching a beautiful sunset and a lightning storm come into the Salt Lake Valley all. by. himself. Guess where I was? In my cubicle preparing tax returns, receiving texts from Thayne's siblings such as: #sololife, #singleforever,
Luckily, I have the greatest husband on earth and although I'm being a stereotypical bad movie husband right now, maybe it'll teach me to have a little more sympathy for Thayne next time he's at the drugstore at 11:15PM.
