“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from—”
“I could benefit from what?” I interjected with a dangerously calm voice. Jake blinked, surprised at the interruption, but soon recovered.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to toss the document in his face and ask if he had a death wish. Instead, I astonished myself: I grinned.
“You’re right, Jake,” I said pleasantly. “I’m very grateful that you created me this timetable. I will start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was immediate. I almost felt terrible for him as I got up and put the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no clue what was about to happen.
The next day, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I re-read the absurd itinerary. If Jake believed he could deliver me a list of “improvements,” he was about to discover how much structure our lives could withstand.
I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
I started by detailing everything he had proposed for me, beginning with the gym membership he was so enthusiastic about. It was pretty funny.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer,” I typed, barely suppressing a chuckle.
