Fellow Traveler and I had just come home from dinner with her aunt and uncle and some household-necessaries shopping out of town. I was in the bathroom when I heard Fellow Traveler say, with feeling, "Honey -- we need to talk."
Omigod, I think. We need to talk? What did I do wrong? Did I say something? Did I do something? Did I not say or do something? Did I leave the peanut-butter knife in the kitchen sink without washing it off again? What? What?
Inwardly cringing, I slowly made my way down the hall to the next room and tentatively poked my head through the doorway.
Fellow Traveler was talking to Cassie, the dog.
I think my therapist will enjoy this story.