The following apologies are applicable as of the night of November 28th.

Mrs. Steve Happens (Hailey). I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that I'm such a deep sleeper.

I'm sorry the garage door that we use to get in and out of the house decided to malfunction, thus not allowing your usual entry late Tuesday night.

I'm sorry it was only six degrees outside that night.

I'm sorry you didn't wear a coat.

I'm sorry you were wearing heels.

I'm sorry the key you had didn't work either.

I'm sorry I didn't hear you pounding on the door for forty minutes.

Or the 27 missed calls to my cell phone.

Or the other 27 missed calls on our home phone.

I'm sorry our neighbor came outside to let his dog out. And in doing so, saw you crying.

I'm sorry he had to hear my name associated with so many select profanities.

I'm sorry you broke your cell phone.

From throwing it violently at our second-floor bedroom window.

I'm sorry it took a good five hucks to startle me from my deep sleep.

(Again, I'm sorry I'm such a deep sleeper.)

I'm sorry that by the time I finally woke up and let you in, your toes were a deep purple.

And your fingers had lost all sense of feeling.

I'm sorry I had the ceiling fan on in our bedroom, strictly for quintessential comfort.

I'm sorry I fell back into the arms of Morpheus within minutes.

I'm sorry that I'm bald and "filling out a bit in the face."

It'll never happen again.



'cept for the bald part.