“Honey, are you going to get up off that couch and help me with anything today, or am I going to have to get nasty about it?” Jill asked half-teasingly of her husband, Chet. It was nearly one o’clock on Saturday afternoon, and as far as she was concerned they were already an hour behind schedule. They were supposed to go out around five for an evening of celebrating, but she had plenty she still had to get done. “My birthday doesn’t count for anything anymore?” he responded, making a cursory effort to get up. He’d promised to help her with...
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