a lovely Monday morning with those darling spouses, the Drunken Housewife and Sober Husband

I was lounging in bed, nursing the tail-end of a migraine, when the Sober Husband requested I join him downstairs for coffee and newspapers (which is usually our happy little social hour). Over coffee, the Sober Husband trotted out the following topics, which were delivered with an unblinking stare and deep, guilt-provoking tones of voice:

- the impending property tax payment and our need to draw on the home equity line to cover it, which segued not-so-nicely into

- the horrendous debt associated with the home equity line and its unfavorable interest rate (so why did we refinance the frigging equity line if that means we got a worse rate???);

- a misdemeanor committed by one of the kittens (a spool of thread was carried throughout the house by the little criminal, leaving an annoying spiderweb of thread behind until the thread was exhausted, at which point the furry miscreant abandoned the empty thread on the staircase);

- the appalling status of the housework, and

- how the Sober Husband planned to pull an all-nighter that evening at St. Doggyo working. (This is all well and fine for him, especially as there is plenty of camaraderie and catered food, but the reality for me is a lack of a break from the dear little children and a tired, crabby husband for the rest of the week).

I interrupted the delightful flow of conversation at this point and told him if he couldn't think of anything which would be as a ray of sunshine for the poor defeated Drunken Housewife who had spent the weekend with a severe migraine and a mother-in-law, then I wished death would come and deliver me from any more of this. A silence followed.