It started off with small things.
I’d wake up in the morning to find a tub of ice cream melted on the couch.
My husband would nonchalantly tell me he ate some ice cream in the night and forgot to put it back in the freezer.
Yeah, that’s a tough one to remember.
Then it turned into emptying the refrigerator, leaving food out for hours so it spoiled.
I’d wake up to find my yogurt had been eaten, milk sat on the dining room table, and the salad I had made the night before left on the countertop.
It would have been a great diet if I hadn’t been seven months pregnant.
Sometimes, he would leave the refrigerator doors open all night, so all the food would spoil.
That was a right laugh.
A month later, he upped his game.
I woke up to find the back door wide open and our dog outside.
He said he sat outside at 3 am because he couldn’t sleep and forgot to shut the door when he came back inside.
I’d have to be impaled by a spade to forget to shut the door.
One morning I woke up to find the back door open, the backyard gate open and our dog gone.
Luckily, we found him thirty minutes later.
My husband said the wind blew the gate open.
Sure. Or it could have been fairies.
Then he started leaving the front door open. Our dog escaped again.
Thankfully no one came to rob or murder us.
Although, it wouldn’t have been the worst thing if someone had swiped him.
That’s when I stopped sleeping.
I was nine months pregnant and on edge all night.
Multiple times a night, I’d follow my drunk husband around the house closing doors and putting food away.
Wish I’d locked him in the closet.
I hid the keys to the front door every night after he had gone to sleep. But the backdoor could be…