I must be. I’m sitting here typing because my wife and I had a fight a few hours ago. She said I was too agressive and sometimes abusive.
I got pouty and went to my computer to play some music. I do that when I am pouty. Apparently my wife knows this.
So I play a few songs off my list, starting with thrash metal, I do that when I am grouchy. Then I taper down to crap like America, no not really, maybe Crosby Stills and Nash. Whatever, emo stuff.
I turn around and who is lying naked in the bed behind me? Al Frankin, no seriously it is my wife. I figure she snuck in between Stevie Nicks and Elton John (his early stuff).
Me, being the husbandly guy I am, quietly lays beside her and softly stroke her face. She gently wakes and says "Hello Evil, how long did it take you to notice me?)
I am Honest and tell her I saw her when I played Southern Cross and went for a drink.
Turns out she has been there, quietly waiting, since Metallica, Enter Sandman. Hmm the grouchy stuff. And I didn’t even see her.
We made up, me feeling like a heel, her explaining that she would like it if I drank less.
So I sit here, staring at her jet black hair that has remarkably few grey hairs, despite her age, listening to her snore like a drunken sailor and counting my blessings.
May all of you feel this blessed in the new year.