Oh...uhm...well in Book Seven: Reconstruction 2020

Last night, Martha had to leave for her date as soon as I got home.

I took Nala for a VERY FRIGID hour long walk (as she had not been walked since Wednesday)
Played tug and chase with Nala for about an hour after that.
Cooked two meals. One for Nala (turkey and beef medallions) and one for me (turkey, onion, and tomato burrito).
Played with Nala while playing PS4.
Had a facetime conversation with a Prosebox friend who had legal questions.
Drank an entire bottle of my favorite Sherry (Harvey’s Bristol Cream) and poured myself a Mason Jar Glass of Merlot.

And.... that’s all I remember!

I woke up this morning in bed. My glasses (needed to see) were not in their usual place. THE HUNT BEGINS!

As I searched for my as-yet-still-missing glasses… I found my clothes in the bathroom. Makes sense. ESPECIALLY when drunk, I prioritize efficiency. I was shitting… pooping requires a certain state of undress… I was about to go to bed… just take all of your clothes off and shit then go to bed. Makes sense.

I found Nala’s collar by the door to the basement. Makes sense. If she was scratching her neck (which she does sometimes for lots of reasons), my drunken go-to would be to remove her collar because I want to make sure the collar isn’t what is making her itch.

Get to the basement… everything is in a state of pause. The movie I was watching on my laptop? Still paused at the exact place before my facetime conversation. The Mortal Kombat X match I was playing? Still paused at the exact place before my facetime conversation.

SO… that’s the evidence of my actions.

I cannot find my wine mason jar. Anywhere. Therefore I do not know how much of the wine IN that mason jar I drank before my actions. I cannot find my glasses. Anywhere. Therefore I do not exactly have an advantage in searching for things. But most disturbing? There is no indication that Martha came home last night. If she left around 5 and it is presently around 11… that is an 18 hour date and counting. I called her cell phone… because I am worried about her safety. It went instantly to voice mail. Meaning her phone is off… most likely out of battery. I’m mad but worried.

I’m worried because this was a Tinder Date. And I’m a criminal prosecutor. So my mind instantly thinks “violent crime.” SO… if you see a news story about a small county prosecutor in Iowa being arraigned on charges of killing his wife… that’s me. But I didn’t do it!

I’m angry because… duh. She wouldn’t even touch me during our marriage and now she’s staying with a boy overnight after 2 dates?? I’m also angry because it is damn familiar. My 21st birthday. Before we were dating… when she knew I liked her but she was still living with her boyfriend… she got so intoxicated that she had to stay at my place. Where we made out heavily and dry-fucked. Which is what inspired her to leave her boyfriend and move out.

So… maybe she’s doing that again. But a live-in situation with a boyfriend of 3 years would seem like a different situation than a husband with whom you’ve had a relationship for 14 years! And honestly if it isn’t? Well… that says a lot, don’t you think?

So this is an interesting place to exist in. No glasses. No idea if Martha is being an extreme bitch or if she is in extreme trouble? Can’t see… angry… worried… an interesting place to be.