Normally after a really crappy day I like to reach for a delicious cocktail. Something with a sugar rim always makes me smile or at least gets those goggles on that make life look much better.
Turns out that sometimes, just sometimes the open arms of a husband is much, much better. Especially when the problems are so ridiculous that they reduce you to tears. Silly tears over stupid stuff. Not important stuff, but the stuff that sends you right over the edge nonetheless and leaves you slightly hysterical in the bathroom. Fighting the dog for possession of the toilet paper because you forgot to buy Kleenex again. Another stupid shortcoming and more tears. Until the key is in the front door.
And the life line appears, in the form of an outstretched blue cast. Which feels pretty much like a regular arm after all.
Thanks Scraps. You are the best.
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