Plump Panda and Captain SQUIRREL! have invited us and a few others over tonight, for a party in celebration of their unsavory roommate moving out.  I just called the hostess to submit a request to title the party, Ding-Dong the Witch is Dead.  She has agreed and claims there will be a banner!  I want to go to this party, see friends and laugh and play board games, but Nick wants to stay home and just be with me.  I don’t want to.  To the outside eye, it may appear that I am dashing away from a romantic evening instigated by my husband, and that eye could be correct.  However, I am a little suspicious about his motives, because I came home from work this afternoon in a snit.  I was very tired, and none of the things that I would have done were I home while he went to work, were done.  Dishes in the sink and on the counter (not many, but still), and more from whatever he ate.  The rent check on the table.  Pretty much those two things.  See?  Not tragic or difficult, or even fight-worthy.  But may I remind you that I was very tired, so I was cranky about these circumstances.  I decided I wanted to nap, so I went to the bathroom right quick and, as I pulled the door open to depart shortly thereafter, I saw Nick filling the doorway.  I proceeded to lose my s—, erm, my business. I get startled kind of easily, and my response is to gasp hugely, with a little bit of shriek mixed in, flinch, and take a swing at whatever/whomever startled me.  This has happened with the two of us at least three times in the last two weeks.  This time was definitely the worst, as I started mildly hyperventilating and crying after taking a half-hearted swing at him.  He said I shouldn’t leave the door open just a crack, I said he should announce himself, I don’t think either of us have the answer because this scenario has happened with the door being fully closed.  Anyway, he helped me shuffle off to  bed, where he cuddled me while I stopped freaking out from the startle and then proceeded to sleepily lambaste him for not doing those things that were so easy and he had hours, had been on his computer, hadn’t even texted me all day, on and on I whined.  I was upset about this stuff because I was so tired; I even told him that .  He cuddled me a bit more, went off to empty the dishwasher and take the rent check over, and now I think he’s in full relationship-recovery mode even though I slept for an hour and a half and now I feel fine.  So you see, I’m concerned that he thinks that I’m still in my pre-nap state of freakout and cranky.  And I just want to go to a party.

Rats, I overcooked the sugar cookies.  They are toasty and tan, not pasty white like they should be.

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