By Joanie R. Elian
Every morning for thirty-years-and-five-kids, Bill would ask me, smiling: “Sleep well?” It was irritating. Like my scratchy thread-bare slippers.
After thirty-years-and-five-kids, all I could manage was a scowl, and my usual retort: “I’ll sleep—when I’m dead.”
The kids eventually left home and I thought I’d sleep better, but I didn’t: panic attacks, menopause, and all those nighttime glasses of water. So when Bill came home from work yesterday and fell fast asleep fully clothed on the couch (must have been dead tired), my first thought was—despite my noticing his pallid complexion—“How unfair that he can sleep so soundly.”
Ha ha..nice. Incidentally, this thought comes to me every day! lol
So glad you like it!
Wonderful! ?
Wonderful!!
I’m glad you enjoyed it!
So true
Thank you!
It resonates! Well done!
Thanks!
I laughed out loud when I read this story. I love your dark humor.
What a treat to make someone laugh! Thank you for your comment!
Well done. Enjoyable read
Thanks, Corey!
The sleep must have lasted an eternity! Well Done.
You got it! Thanks, Jeff!
Subtle characterization. You clearly delineated the wife’s frustration; I felt for her, but you also hinted at her selfishness and self-concern– Hubby seemed to me underappreciated…and I loved the hint at the end (pale, tired) suggesting wifey might soon be a widow.
Thanks, Cathryn for your in-depth comments. You got the widow hint!