My Dearest Family, Fuck Off, With Love
Recently my husband and I had a big ol' fight about the fact that he exists at the same time that I exist, in the same home, and how I annoying I find that.
Basically, one day I had the house to myself to write (working on my second novel) and I got a ton done and it was blissful. The next day, I was sharing this, and apparently I was a little bit too exuberant about it, because when he said, casually, "You know, I could go into the office more if it's really that important to you," I think I did the Tom Cruise couch jump thing. So then he felt compelled to add that it really shouldn't be that big of a deal when he's here at home working because he's just doing his thing in the corner of the house, coming in occasionally for bio breaks, and generally leaving me alone...right? He was hurt, I could tell, and we're working on this new thing in our marriage where we don't hurt each other on purpose (yes, it's as hard as it sound), so I explored where I was coming from and why this was such a big thing to me.
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