Tuesday night in the middle of that deluge, I left Todd. This time, I was sure it was for good. Though our fights had currently been limited to mean words (name calling and the like) you never know. I mean, what’s to stop him from picking up an ashtray (not that either of us smoke, but you can picture it) and hurling it at me? I wear glasses. So besides the danger of concussion and who knows what else, my glasses, which cost me a fortune, would, for sure, break. There’s no handy health insurance company picking up the tab. It’s just me and Todd. Or at least it used to be.

So I left. Thursday night, me and my best buddy Joan, who’s stuck by me since sixth grade, went to the movies for a cup of calm. By the time we got out, it was raining. Don’t you hate that? It’s almost as bad as leaving a movie in the middle of the day. And that’s when I saw my car in the parking lot. Someone plastered bread, spongy white bread, to the front end. By someone I mean Todd. Our first real fight was over the right way to cook egg-in-a-hole. I insisted on white bread. Wonder Bread actually. Granted, it’s a weird way to say “I’m sorry” but that’s what makes life with Todd such an adventure. I wish I were that creative.