Sunday morning he was sleeping in, so I decided to go for a bike ride. I told him I'd be going, and I asked when he wanted me back. He said he didn't care, so I packed a book and looked forward to my morning.
About an hour and a half later he called to ask where I was. It happened that I was on the way home, and he seemed pleased.
I got home and found nothing but open hostility.
He was in the kitchen, angry.
Why are all the kitchen towels dirty?
Well, honey, I started a load of laundry before I left. I'll go check on it now.
Why were you gone for two and a half hours?
Two and a half hours ago I was still asleep. I left at ten, and now its just before 11:30. Besides, I asked if it was okay.
Then there was general grumbling about dirty dishes, and he made himself a bowl of cereal. This is a small thing, but I've never made so much as one crumb of food for myself without making a nice meal for him, and I've often served it to him while he lied in bed, watching TV or playing on his laptop. He didn't offer me any cereal, he just grumbled some more and went upstairs.
I'd like to say the day got better. Really, it just got less worse.
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