I woke up to a huge crash and what sounded like plates shattering. I thought we were being robbed. That, or that there was an earthquake. I reached over to grab Brian, but I was in bed alone. Hmm… Brian is up.
I look at the clock– 1:33am. Geez.
I throw off the covers and stomp out of the room. Really, Brian? Really? At 1:33 in the freakin’ morning? Ugh!
I come down the stairs and step into the living room. My husband is washing the dishes. I wipe my eyes. Nope– not a mirage. My husband is washing the dishes.
Brian hates washing the dishes– and there were a ton last night. We’ve had a busy week and haven’t gotten to them for a couple days. And there he is, washing away. At 1:33 in the morning. This is for me.
I swallow my yell. I stand there and stare.
The sight of me makes Brian jump. Now we’ve both been frightened tonight. He wants to know what I’m doing up. “Loud,” I mumble through the groggy haze, and turn to go back to bed.
He rushes to my side and wants to make sure I’m okay. He’s full of apologies, but I don’t want them. I want to disappear. I wish I hadn’t come downstairs at all. I wish I hadn’t said a word. I don’t want to do anything to ever deter him from doing dishes.
My husband loves me. He loves me so much he would do something he hates in the middle of the night, so that I won’t have to do them or fret about the piles in the morning. So, I’m going to need to by some earplugs because I’m not asking Brian to modify that behavior at all 😉 Wash away, baby!