I hate nights like last night.
I always hope Doc H will come home in a good mood. I love it when he comes home happy and had a great and productive day at work. Instead, he called before he left the hospital to say it was a hard day and he was tired, still had to work on his talk for an upcoming conference which was due that very day. It was 6:48pm.
So, despite the fact that we were child-free, and I was hoping for a night out, I whipped into Rachel Ray mode, surveyed the pantry and freezer and whipped up a chicken pasta meal in less than twenty. It was ready by the time he walked in the door looking like this...
While we ate our dinner, his fatigue was palpable. So palpable, even though mustered up enough energy to ask my how my first class went, I felt bad sharing my excitement and joy about my day knowing he was exhausted and still had a full night of work ahead of him. So, I outlined my day in a low-key manner. I just don't have the heart to rub my good day in his bad day's face. Spouses day's should be tethered together, so we can either celebrate or have a bitch fest together.
He quickly inhaled his dinner and went to work. He used to sit at the computer late at night writing papers. Now, it's to put together presentations for talks...
At 11:00pm, I couldn't hold out anymore and turned off the lights. This morning, he left the house under morning darkness to get some work done before he heads into the OR for a full day of cases.
I know he'll be coming home today more spent than a bull in his own personal harem of heifers.