I Meant Well

Every morning, and I do mean every, hubby walks the dog while I snooze. In this way, we stay happily married. A well-rested SJG is less kvetchy and functions on a higher plane of existence. This morning, however, I got up early so hubby should snooze. He's had a long week. Would it kill me to get up sooner than later? (I'll keep you posted.) So I tippy-toed into the bathroom in my dainty, dancer-like fashion, even though I'm not now and have never been a ballerina. In retrospect, I should have Bob Fosse'd my way forth, flashing the jazz hands and tipping the bowler hat. But I was trying not to wake him. I was quiet, so quiet. Or so I thought. By the time I exited the bathroom, all dressed and ready for walkies, looking ever-so-chic with a knitted scarf wrapped round my neck, he'd already gotten up and left with the dog. Huh. I guess hubby really needed to go out.