At least, I think that’s who he was. It’s possible a passing lunatic came by to murder me but, seeing the truck outside, had a change of heart and murdered the exterminator instead. Then he stole the uniform and sprayed orange juice around my house so I wouldn’t wonder what happened to the real exterminator.
Unlikely? Sure. But it would explain the giant fucking spider Hamilton killed last night while I watched Orange is the New Black.
Anyway, between those two posts you might be wondering if I’ve forgotten the stated goal of this page: to bring you truthful, accurate reports of the things my husband says in the form of my actual conversations with him. I promise you, it is not so! Here, let me soothe you with a quick sampling of what it’s been like, living here with him.