Don’t Want To Be Pistoriused

, , , | Romantic | June 29, 2018

(After weather-related delays and some layovers, very late at night, I have the chance to make it home earlier than predicted, but too late to call. This flight will get me to my doorstep at 2:30 or so in the morning, unexpectedly for my retired military husband with mild PTSD. We’re out in the country, and the dogs bark when they hear the truck. I manage to drop a bag on the porch, and I’m not quiet going into the house, but my husband doesn’t stir. I set down my bags, and take a look in the bedroom. He’s solidly asleep. I consider joining him, then think… PTSD. Loaded 45 handgun on the bedside table. He doesn’t expect me until afternoon. Instead, I bunk down in the guest room. When I hear his alarm go off at 5:30 am, I text him:)

Me: “I’m HOME!”

(He goes to the front door, passing by the guest room on the way. I text:)

Me: “In here.”

Husband: “Why did you sleep in the guest room?”

Me: “I didn’t want you to accidentally shoot me!”

Husband: *considering* “Probably not a bad decision.”

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