Furloughed: Day 1 (My Marriage Declines)

Apparently, after I leave for work in the morning, my household becomes a finely tuned and fragile ecosystem and any introduction of a foreign body (i.e., me) can destroy what routine my wife has carefully built.

In this scenario, I am the Exxon Valdez.

Even the presence of me sleeping in bed at 8am was enough to annoy her as it prevented her from turning on the lights to get dressed. This elicited a deep sigh which was enough to rouse me. It was a sigh that I am well acquainted with. It chilled me to my very bones (largely because I knew a kick to the groin usually follows).

In the living room, I turned on the TV which apparently is a cardinal sin as every set of small eyes were immediately drawn to the magic box and distracted from their morning responsibilities.

When I left to go upstairs to watch the news, I left behind me an endless wake of questions about my presence from my kids that had my wife sighing even more.

When I returned to the kitchen, I could not take a step without occupying space that my wife either needed or was planning on using.

When she left with the kids in tow, vague threats were made about my finding something useful to do like cleaning the house or doing some errands, which, let's face it, is just setting me up for more failure.

Please don't let this drag on, congress. My marriage and groin are in jeopardy.