under a spell

So although I am still so mad at my darling husband that I could spit nails (preferably into the tires of that abomination taking up space in my garage) and I find myself unable to even speak to him save for civil conversations about our children, I am so very thankful that his latest health concerns and the lecture discussion he had at the doctor’s has spurred him into action about his cigarette smoking and nicotine addiction.

Yesterday he met with a specialist to try hypnotherapy to help him quit. As he saddled up on his two-wheeled mid-life crisis to ride over to his scheduled appointment, part of me wondered if it would be wrong to call the hynotherapist and ask him to include a subliminal message that Bill must get rid of the motorcycle now and apologize to his wife…beg her forgiveness, wine and dine her, hold her close in his arms and whisper just how sorry and wrong he is and how he will do anything and everything to make it up to her and his children and grandchild because they mean so much more to him than anything in the whole wide world especially anything named Harley Davidson.

That wouldn’t be wrong, now would it?

It would?

Okay fine.

I’ll just continue to wait for hell to freeze over and for him to quit smoking.