If You Are Reading This You Have Found My Husband Drunk After Two Cocktails And Are Reading This Stapled To His Coat Sleeve Like A Mitten

Hello, this is my husband, Aaron, and if you’re reading this he has had two cocktails, so please don’t get him all riled up or try to confuse him. I can’t be with him all the time so I’ve stapled this to his coat sleeve like a mitten. I would avoid bringing up anything that would make him talk for a long time uninterrupted, such as ranking snack cakes or Woodstock ’99.

This note is not here for his safety; it’s for my sanity. Sure I could come get him, but sometimes it’s nice to have some solo Diane time. Tell him that he should stay out for as long as he wants. Maybe grab him a hotel room for the night if you need to, my credit card information is on the back of this note. Get yourself something from the mini bar too. I don’t need him coming home lightheaded and haphazardly changing out our shower head while singing half remembered Stone Temple Pilots songs.

If you need to step out of the room just to gather yourself for a couple minutes, you can come back later and he won’t even notice you were gone if he’s going off on a whole thing about Lyndon Johnson’s post-presidency hair. He’s still working his way through that one so don’t get caught up on inaccuracies, logistics or anachronisms. You have to pour your ideas out before shaping them into something coherent.

I really appreciate your help throughout all this, but I don’t really think it’s putting you out all that much. This man gets a little chatty after 1-and-a-half drinks, so what? Like we all don’t get slightly more obnoxious when we drink a normal adult amount? I’m sure you’re no picnic all the time either. What gives you the right to judge my husband, who only does this maybe three times a year? It’s not like he’s going to have a hangover tomorrow, he’ll be sober before Nightline. I’ll bet your nights out on the town are a lot more taxing, I know mine sure are! Where the hell do you get off thinking you’re better than my sweet husband who has never hurt a fly and is still as nice and tender as he was the day we met in the audience of that game show? If anything, we could all stand to be a little more like him in this cold, unforgiving, cockamamie world. I owe him an apology for this condescending note I’ve taped to his jacket when he gets home. God, I hope he comes back. I’m not always the easiest person to live with. I need to make some changes. Just send the ol’ lug home and I’ll be ever so grateful. I’m fully drunk right now, so excuse any typos or slurs contained in this. Don’t you hurt or take advantage of my husband or so help me…,mx.an cjq;l ’gkhdfj zifoknasl 3894tuj 03ut9o ifgdEKJH ujksfg dsv kla ghowv ;k*#$#(*$% #_$*(%*#