I’ve said it before, the world of a writer can be a very weird place. And my husband and children have no choice but to live in it daily.
One day, this week, when my husband came home from work, he found me in the freezing, unfinished basement, furiously typing away. With the kids home for spring break, it was the only quiet space in the joint.
“So…I’m guessing we’re having leftovers for dinner,” he said.
I jumped in my seat. With the help of my focus and earplugs, I hadn’t heard him come down.
“Oh, is it that late?” I looked down at the clock on my computer. “Ah crap, do you mind? I just gotta stab this guy, then I’ll be done for the night.”
He didn’t even blink an eye, probably, because I’ve said weirder things than that. He just kissed me on the check, and left me to my craziness. Man, I love that boy.