If you should hear that I’ve been arrested for killing my husband, don’t believe it for an instant.
It’s not that there aren’t moments when, in spite of being a most devoted spouse, that I’d like to to bump him off. There are.
Baseball season comes to mind, for example. Although if John dies of boredom from the constant droning of baseball announcers, I don’t think it constitutes murder.
And music differences might send me over the edge. Some day, I might just need to listen to Linda Ronstadt without someone asking me to change the music.
So why shouldn’t you believe I’d murder him?
John does our taxes every year. He has been doing them since we got married. Before that, I filed a 1040EZ form. I plan to die first just so I never have to do them.
John spent the weekend tearing out his hair, scratching his head and swearing. Me? I went out to lunch and read blogs.
Life is good.