Curry Saved the Marriage

Last night we left to see the house. Hubbie and I, sweetly chatting on the train together catching up on the past week that we have missed.

About 3/4 of the way to our destination I got a very ugly feeling in the pit of my stomach. I turned my head, looked at him.

You did bring the key with you to get into the house.

It was a statement, not a question. The widening of the eyes and the sudden droop of the shoulders gave me my answer. Holy fucking shit.

He left the keys at the hotel.

The people on the train around us all stopped what they were doing and stared at us. It was like a shockwave rippled through the car. Then they looked out the windows or at their newspapers to avoid laughing.

One woman made eye contact with me, and I told her This is where the divorce starts. Right here.

I was mostly kidding.

She also looked out the window to try and hide her smirk. I don't know if she felt worse for me or for Hubbie, but I know that she went home and said Oh my GOD! Let me tell you about this couple on the train!!

I was proud of myself. I didn't cry. I didn't throw a fit. I didn't pound his air-headed little ass into the carpet. I wanted to do all three.

The saving grace of the evening was getting picked up by Hubbie's colleague who, instead of taking us directly to Major Orange Home Improvement Store, took us home and had his mother-in-law feed us the most phenomenal homemade Indian dishes I have ever tasted. Don't ask me to name them because I can't remember everything she put out for us, but they were delicious.

I told her dinner made up for Hubbie forgetting the key. She was pleased. Hubbie was relieved.

So, let's try this again.