Fold and Pray

We weren't quite fighting, but we just weren't clicking either.

Bickering back and forth off and on, I felt a little prickly all evening.

Ugh.

And what did he mean by that last little comment anyway?

I wanted to play the hurt game. I wanted to give the silent treatment.

I wanted to skulk off to the bath and overthink the whole conversation.

I wanted to brood.

But when I got upstairs, I noticed his basket of clean clothes at the foot of the bed.

I remembered he's been covering TWO services at the hospital this week. Again.

And I started folding.

I didn't brood or overthink. I just folded and prayed.

It didn't solve the issue. We'll still have to talk about it.

But by the time the last pair of underwear was folded and tucked neatly into my husband’s basket, I'd kind of forgotten what exactly I was upset about in the first place. I was feeling just a little less prickly.

You guys, marriage is hard.

But I think sometimes the best thing to do is fold the clothes.

And pray.