The last two mornings, I have woken up comfortable in my bed in a puddle of sunshine. I have thought “things are getting better,” and “all this fuss over nothing. Perfect Husband should have let me go into work today.”

Then, the phone would ring.

I would moan, cover my head with the quilt, and ignore the ring. I was terrified that it might be work. Calling to say what? It didn’t matter. I didn’t want to deal with it. When it would turn out to have been a friend, calling to see how I was, or the mental health clinic calling to check up on me, or the flooring guys finally wanting to put in the linoleum… I would still stay in bed, avoiding the return call, avoiding the world.