To my wife



 
I suppose you’ll call this a confession when you read it. I don’t like the word confession, but something’s been weighing heavy on my conscience and I just want to set you right about one thing.
Do you want to know who turns off the dishwasher every time you do the dishes? I do. Me, your husband of almost 15 years, no visible scars—until a little while ago, that is.
I did it for all those dirty dishes in the sink that otherwise would’ve had to wait their turn...

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