Less of an Asshole

Carol sleeps in our bed. I sleep in my recliner.

I get up at 7:00. Carol gets up at 9:00.

Our new home is all on one level, which is heavenly for old folks like us. Especially me with my fucked up knee.

When I wake up I walk by the bedroom. I peek in at Carol sleeping and tears appear. Tears of happiness (tired of this yet?)

Carol is as happy as I am in this new house. Her happiness makes me happy. In addition, I am less of an asshole now. Which intensifies her happiness. And makes me feel good.

I have always been the drawback to her positivity. I was so unhappy, that my mercurial moods, which tended towards negativity, had an effect on her. She could be happy in the old place because Carol is an adult and can be happy anywhere, but she could not be as happy as she should have been, as happy as she deserved to be, because she had to deal with and respond to my moods. Inevitably.

Why the hell she never kicked me out to marry the pool boy with the washboard abbs and gymnastic pecs is beyond me.

Still, here I am. Actually contributing to Carol's happiness.

I am feeling more whole than ever before.