You know what else I think is ridiculous? That mountain of pillows you have on our bed. I feel like I'm working on a loading dock just trying to get under the covers.
It is, actually, because that is when I decided that I don't want this piece of art that I slaved over hanging in the house you are sharing with your new girlfriend.
They were eating the food meant for the mouths of Tara, vegetables over whose long rows she had wearied her back, food she had driven endless miles to buy.