I woke up in my own bed. Not in a parking lot. Not in my driveway. Not in a hotel room because I got mad and left and didn’t want to sleep in my car. But in my own bed. Albeit next to the guy that isn’t speaking to me, but I’ll take it. I’m used to the silent treatment. Just another day in the freakin’ “paradise” someone created called marriage.
Kids are laughing and happy making breakfast together. That’s what I need to start the day off.
Tomorrow makes a week of sobriety.
I won’t get cocky.
Humble is the way to go.
My Saturday morning wake up call is the silent alarm bell going off in my head that says sobriety is better.
Ray is sober.