Happy anniversary

It wasn't until I'd gone to bed both very tired and very hungry I remembered yesterday's significance. Granted not precisely a cause for celebration but there it is. We were married fourteen years ago yesterday.

Didn't see him until yesterday afternoon, then only briefly and cordially. Then got home at about 9:15 in the evening. He was relatively sober and ready to chat, the offspring already upstairs and in bed if not actually asleep.

What I wanted to do was get a meal inside me so that it had a chance to settle a bit before I turned in. What I would have said yes to was one (or probably both) of the beers he'd thoughtfully provided. Perhaps that was a token?

Don't know. He waffled on a bit, then a bit more, then a bit more still. I sat there getting more and more wound up, my stomach rumbling. When would he leave me in peace. He went out for a fag. I figured I had a couple of minutes more to endure. I waited, and waited, and waited.

Twenty minutes later I decided I was more tired than hungry and turned in.

Happy anniversary.