As I was drying, I heard my wife walk into the bedroom. She bumped into the closet door, her dresser, the end of the bed, and one of the night tables.... guess they must have stopped for a drink or three.I walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Amy pushed past me and got on her knees to worship the porcelain goddess. I turned around and walked back into the bathroom to hold her hair out of the mess she was making in the toilet.Amy had long dirty blond hair and would be really impossible. Her head was spinning through lunch. She knew she was overthinking everything, wondering what to wear, wondering and worrying about what was going to happen. Every few minutes she would tell herself that this was exactly why she needed this (not quite letting her internal self name what it was), and then the internal dialog would spin around and start right back up. All the while, she poked at the leftover pasta she had warmed up, not really eating very much of it.Before too long, she glanced. More

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