My husband is having an affair. When I'm talking to him, he has that glassy eyed look of the man who is only paying enough attention to stay out of trouble. I can tell his mind is miles away. Or, to be more accurate, about 50 feet away in the garage. I have become a workshop widow.
I think I realized how serious the situation was last night. We had just finished up playing some tennis on the brand new Wii that he had won in the office Biggest Loser competition. (A Wii! I know! That's huge!) He had worked extremely hard for nearly four months and lost more than
35 pounds, all motivated by that tantalizing Wii carrot. I wanted to try the tennis by myself for a minute to see if I could figure out how to hit the dang ball.
Him: Are you kicking me out of the game?
Me: Just for a minute, I want to figure this out.
Him: So, you're kicking me out of the game?
Me: Just for a minute!
Him: You want to play by yourself?
Me: (getting paranoid) You don't have to go, I just want to try something
Him: Nothat'sokayI'mgoingtojustgoingouttotheshopforaminute....
And then he was gone. I could feel a rush of breeze from his swift departure out to the garage.
I'm not a jealous wife. I really don't mind sharing my husband with the girls in the shop because the smile on his face when he is covered with sawdust is pure joy. It lights up the whole room.
I love living in the light.
The Girls:
Jezebel, Delilah, and Fifi
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