Dear Husband . . . I’m Sorry.

Dear Husband,

I’m sorry about the wet shirt.

I really was kind of proud of myself when I put it in the washing machine this morning.  It was early, and I was glad that the load with your coach’s shirt was totally going to be finished before you needed to wear it tonight.

Yes.  I do feel a little bit guilty that my cheer coach’s shirt was dry and ready for my own pictures.

I’m extra sorry that it didn’t register what you meant when you texted me a reminder about tonight’s pictures.  I thought I was doing good to have all of the kids’ uniforms out and ready.

I’m not going to make an excuse.  I could ramble on about how I was doing really important stuff for our kids’ school and for our church all day today.

I could distract you by bragging about how awesome I am for learning how to set the delayed start on our new oven so there would be a hot-and-bubbling casserole ready to eat when we got home after the pictures.

I could talk about how I obviously meant to do it since the dryer was actually empty, ready to receive and dry the load with your shirt in it.

I’m sorry.  Really sorry.

But I also want to thank you.

Thank you for loving me, even when you’re annoyed and uncomfortable in your wet, blue shirt.

Thank you for fake-smiling as you make sarcastic-but-not-rude remarks about how,obviously . . . a shirt only needs five minutes in the dryer to be ready to wear.

Thank you for accepting me as I am, even though I do stuff like this on an all-too-regular basis.

I love you.

 

P.S. Don’t you think it’s lucky how the shirt is navy blue so it didn’t look wet?

Oh.  Too soon?

 

--Nony

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