Gentle Reader, I have, in the past few months, er, years, said some less than flattering things about my soon-to-be-ex-husband. And I stand by many, though not all, of them.
None of that matters tonight. On the merest whiff of suggestion from me, he independently arranged for the kids to go to his parents' house this weekend, thereby freeing my schedule for 48 whole hours, whereby I am free to indulge this godawful head cold* in blessed, merciful solitude.
Plus! He offered to take them winter clothes shopping, of his own volition. Because he Wants To!
Somewhere in my head, that White Stripes song about how You and I Are Gonna Be Friends is playing. I would smile if I didn't feel as though my sinuses would implode. I'm smiling on the inside.
*Thank you, seventh grade boys, for coming to school sick even when you should be home in bed, thus infecting EVERYONE ELSE IN THE ENTIRE FREAKING BUILDING, HOLY SHIT. TAKE SOME ECHINACEA ALREADY. AND WASH YOUR DAMN FILTHY LITTLE HANDS.
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