I stormed out of our room, took a walk barefooted around the house which is a swampy marsh. Found a quiet spot in a secret room (not super secret, but a room no one ever goes in that has a chair) and read the scriptures.
Came back to our room and freaked out again. Headed upstairs to blow of steam online.
Our room was a mess. My clothes were everywhere and Kyle asked me to pick them up, to find a place for them. The problem? There wasn't a place for them. The room we are staying in has a giant chest in the middle because the trim around the room still needs to go up and we cant fully move in quite yet. So I freak out because that is what I am really good at. I get all dramatic and make a big scene. Then go blow my steam somewhere else.
Well the second round Kyle comes upstairs and has this puppy look on his face.
He says, "would you be mad if I did something bad?"
My mind goes "what the crap did he do?" Real life, "of course not"
You see my behavior was not justifiable and it was kinda rash and I could totally understand Kyle getting mad because I was mad. In my head it makes sense, Kyle isn't really like that.
"what did you do?"
"you'll just have to see."
He leads me downstairs to an immaculate room. He organized all my clothes into piles that I would have done (tank tops, graphic/fancy shirts, plain shirts, sweaters, etc).
Dang. I am spoiled.
Gotta love a husband who understands my frustrations and does everything humanly possible to ease them. Oh I love him.
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