She woke up the sounds of him grinding coffee beans. She resented that sound. Hated it. And she was instantly awake with anger. A nice way to start a Sunday.

She didn't know how it came to this but came to this it had. Do all couples reach this stage? She wanted to blame him. To find fault with him. And for sure there were plenty of faults. From keeping the bathroom a mess to dry butt crack. But none of these faults were really that bad. Certainly not worthy of the hate she felt for him.

So what was it then? Her therapist said these feelings was from deep inside her. From earlier memories, likely generational, that she needed to work through. That bitch. Fuck her, she thought. I just hate that son of a bitch making coffee with all of my heart.

Was it always full on hate? No. Not when he wasn't around. And when she was around those who made her smile. Certainly she had her share of admirers. And she wasn't shy about spreading the love. You only live once, after all, so why limit yourself to one man. Especially one with a dry butt crack.

Her therapist said the hate may just be the other side of her guilt. That in order for her to keep acting out, which she was super intent on doing, she must hate the husband. The coffee grinder. So be it.

The coffee grinder brought a cup of coffee to the bed and she sat up and smiled. Can't let the hated know he is hated. Then he might be in on the jig.

"Thanks honey", she said taking a small sip. "You're a keeper. Join me."

With the weekly five minute pacification out of the way she texted her way into a lunch date that would be her pacification all the while the man she hated showered.