Why my husband is awesome, part 345,253,254

There's this person who's been bothering me a lot. She hates me basically for existing. I have determined on my own time that she has passive-aggressive personality disorder and I am a likely target for her hatred because I am better off than she. It's always someone else's fault.

But still, in the wee hours of the night after my husband is asleep and I am waiting to be so (I take forever every night to fall asleep), my brain tugs at her hatred, and some days it is worse than others. The other night I started crying, and it actually woke him up. He gathered me closer into his arms. "Please tell me this isn't about something that isn't worth your time and emotion," he said.

"I can't help it," I sniffled.

"Look at it this way," he said, his voice rumbling in a sleepy way, "who would you rather be? You, or her?"

I giggled against his chest, through my tears. "Me, of course."

"Well then."

"You just did that to make me laugh," I complained.

"Everything I do is to make you laugh," he answered. "Or happy. Laughter or other happy noises."

And that is why I cannot help but adore this man. I'm trapped. But it's a happy, happy trap.