Post-Valentine Confession

Now that Valentine’s day is over I can stop pretending that I have a perfect marriage and tell you what happened the week before. Ermahgerd!!

So ok, I got really mad at Brantley Wescott two weeks ago, and I can’t remember the details right now, but trust me that he was being a total douche. I know I have it all written down in text messages to my friends. Hang on while I look it up. Here it is. (Oh, Jesus take the wheel! I’m angry again!!)

He wasn’t being a good communicator and he said, “Shut-up,” to me.

I’m not kidding. I was furious.

Later on, but before he apologized (that detail is crucial), I ran errands that landed me near in proximity to Green Hills Mall, specifically Nordstrom. I can honestly say that I’ve never been revenge shopping before, but I did it that day and it felt good. At least, until check out time when the girl ringing me up (who I realized by engaging in not-so-small talk with, is someone who I was almost related to by marriage, briefly, but still. Small world!!) said, “I need your address so I can send you a thank you note in the mail.” I asked her to forego the formality and just say it to my face, but she insisted and I wasn’t far enough along in my friendship/almost kin-ship with her to tell her that I was shopping on the down-low, not to mention my mail phobia. I mean, if I don’t know who licked it, or recognize the handwriting on the envelope, then it goes straight into the pile for Brantley to open. Because of this, I have an open mail policy with my husband, and there is a good chance of him intercepting said “thank you” note. Rats!!!

I then added that I’m a terrible liar, and that there was very little chance of making it through the day without spilling my own beans, anyway. Brantley always knows I’m lying because I have a tell. It consists of me speaking in a loud-monotone voice while gazing directly into his neck. I swear it’s like he’s in the CIA, or something. He always knows.

Anyway, a few days later this envelope came in the mail and it made me chuckle.

Clearly, it’s NOT from Nordstrom.

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