P is already parked in front of the television, and letting me clean up the kitchen by myself. He didn't even tell me that he liked the food. His favorite food. He just ate, put his plate in the sink, and then walked into the living room to watch the Phillies. The damn Phillies! I guess that I should be happy that he put his plate in the sink, but I would love to smash everything in it.
I'm determined to try, though. Take a stab at it. Open myself up for humiliation--again. Try to avoid the craving for ice cream that I've been having all day. I'll be lean, and hungry, and irresistible to my indifferent husband. I hope.
If this does not work, I don't know what to do. I'm standing at the edge of a cliff right now, and P needs to talk me back from the edge or I'll fall off.
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