Power of a Pup
‘‘I’m back!” my husband, Lynn, announced, shuffling into the kitchen that afternoon in September with his arms full of groceries.
“Sooner than I expected,” I said, without looking up from my computer screen. I’d finally hit my stride paying some bills and catching up on email, and here he was, back home already!
“No hero’s welcome?” he asked, unloading the groceries on the counter right next to where I was working.
“Sorry. Just trying to get some things done.”
“I won’t interrupt,” he promised, putting away the cans and boxes in the kitchen cabinets. Then, as always, he left the doors wide open.
“Could you please close the cupboard doors?” I could hear the edge in my voice.
“Sure,” Lynn said, not looking at me as he banged the doors shut. Then he began loading the refrigerator at a glacial pace, making me crazy that he was leaving the fridge door open for so
