For years I’ve chastised Paul for being careless with gloves and hats. I’ve been so certain that he’s lost and repurchased every item that I once threatened to sew his gloves to his jacket.
At this moment, I can’t remember a time when he misplaced any of these things, but in the last twelve months, I’ve lost two pairs of gloves and a hat. I think I can be a real asshole sometimes.
It’s like when I shriek in protest at the idea of Paul climbing onto the roof to fix something…because of my acrophobia.
Just one of many moments of self-awareness. Why don’t these ever happen in my favor?