No one has to die.
The PMS is over.
I probably won't cry today.
The Pastor was a very smart husband about the whole thing. He fled the house. Seeking asylum, he went to Target to purchase a blender (not for Mother's Day, we needed a blender). On the way home, he had the wisdom to stop at the $7 per scoop ice cream store to buy me a treat (with extra cookie dough).
He has even charted me on his palm pilot. For one week a month, he has an entry on his calendar that says "be especially nice to Robyn. Even nicer than normal. Be really, really nice to Robyn."
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