“I think that maybe I’m depressed.”
“Really? Well, have you had a glass of water yet today?”
That was my Saturday night.
I chugged some sparkly juice, cuddled on the couch with my main squeeze and watched Zombieland. Oh, and ps. love that movie. But after all that, I started crying. And for no reason in particular. So my husband, feeling forced to fix the problems of his frantic wife, was all “Oh crap, what did I do?”
I poured my heart out to him. He listened. It actually felt great to unload like that. But then he spoke. And I know that he means well, but this guy’s suggestions are ridiculous.
A glass of water.
Would my thirst be quenched? Possibly.
My mind at ease? Not a chance.
And husby, if you’re reading this (because I know you are), you could at least suggest chocolate next time. But you knew that already.