“What?!” His voice is muffled, irritable, half asleep.
“Did you put the dogs out?”
The body in the bed makes annoyed face, groans, starts to get up.
“Forget it. I’ll do it.”
I do it. And I clean up the pee at the bottom of the stairs because the dogs hate rain. Snow? Sleet? Wind? They can deal with it, but heavy pelting rain? Nope. They take it personally and with significant hostility.
Shower and back to the bedroom. I need to dry my hair. I’m still peeved, but cleaner. There’s still no one to complain to, just the unmoving, unconscious husband.
More coffee. Definitely.