No, I’m not angry that you came home four hours late.  Really, I’m not. 

It just makes me sad.

It makes me sad because I made this whole meal– roasted tilapia with red potatoes and a Brussels sprout salad with an emulsion of raspberry puree, with fresh-baked gluten-free bread and rosemary salt, with a fine dry white Chardonnay, and–well anyway, it makes me sad because there are children in Somalia who are at this moment getting eaten by tigers, and here we are with such abundance spread out in front of us, and, fish doesn’t really keep and I had to throw half of it away through the back window.

Don’t walk over there, I think there’s still glass on the floor. I’ll call the window guys tomorrow.

It just makes me sad, that’s all.

And this letter came today.  It’s from Miss Hartwright, you know, Caleb’s teacher.  His AP English teacher.  Apparently Caleb wrote a paper that was so stupid and so ill-conceived — it was a 45-page tome about what would have happened if the scarlet letter would have been green instead of red– well anyway apparently Caleb is no longer an AP English student.  He got sent back to regular English.  That means he’s probably not getting into Wesleyan.  And that means that he’s probably going to end up going to state and marrying a cheerleader.  Did you check his assignment that night?  Because I think he wrote that paper on a night when you were supposed to check his homework.

No, I’m not mad.  I’m just saddened by the whole thing.  I think I’m going to cry.  No no.  I’m not going to cry.  I’m a strong woman.  A strong woman. Breathe, breathe.

Okay, it went away.

Listen, I know you’re training for a marathon– a marathon in September — and that’s the most important thing on your plate right now.  I get that.  And I’m fully supportive of it, really, I am.  I know you’re entering your hypoxic training phase and that it’s a crucial point in your preparation and what you crave more than anything is a trip to the oxygen bar after every workout.  I know it takes time to get fully oxygenated after how hard you work out, and it makes sense to me, really, it does.  I totally get it.

I just wish you would have been here when the contractor came, because he charged us $400,000 dollars to replace that bannister, and honestly, I think he did kind of a crappy job.  The wood doesn’t match and the spokes or whatever don’t really match up with the holes in a few places.  I don’t know how much these things cost, so I just paid him the $400,000., and now we’re not going to have Christmas, and I wonder if you would be okay telling Caleb about that.

No?  Why not?  Because if you had been here to supervise the contractor, then maybe none of this would have happened and maybe–

No.  No I’m not mad.  I’m just sad that we have a weird bannister now, because if your mother comes to visit and she falls down the stairs and breaks a hip because she touched a wobbly part of the bannister, that would be really sad.  Because often people don’t recover from broken hips.  That’s it for them.

Do you want some wine?  Oh, shoot. I guess this bottle is empty.  I mean, no, it’s not empty– this bottle is currently “not full”.  I’m a “not full” kind of person instead of a “totally empty” person.  You know that.  That’s why you married me.  I’ll just go get another one. Wait right here.

Oh, you’re going to bed?  Oh okay.  There might not be any hot water though, if you’re taking a shower, because I took a 2-hour shower right before you came home.  It felt great.  One thing I know is at least we have great water pressure.

Unlike those kids in Somalia.  They don’t have any water pressure there.  The only water pressure they’re going to get is when an elephant sneaks up behind them and douses them with trunk-water.  Right before the tiger eats them.

God, it’s sad.  The whole thing is sad, really.