“Are you insane?”

That isn’t the best question to ask your wife as you’re getting ready for bed, but I asked it as soon as I spit my toothpaste out. I had asked it half in jest—only half.

She said she wanted to get up an hour early to go put gas in the car—after she put $20 in the tank earlier that day, but, according to her, it was at the wrong gas station—and get a cup of coffee. I would have just tried to sleep that extra hour and not worried about it. Caffeine addiction is strong.

It’s little things like this that keep me interested. When the little things cease to be interesting, that’s when your relationship is doomed, or so I hear. Twenty years in and I still find them interesting—I’ll count that as a win.

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The statements I made were “inappropriate and frankly insubordinate.” That’s what the email from the director said when I came back to work. Inappropriate and insubordinate, but not untrue. I could see how the statements I made could be construed as insubordinate by those in a position of authority. I even agree with their word choice—insubordinate. What a great word. What a fitting definition.

When you look at the word in the dictionary they break it apart like this: in ּ sub ּ or ּ di ּ nate

My brain, being owned by a slightly narcissistic personality, immediately picked out, “Nate.” Being named Nathan, I’ve endured my fair share of being called “Nate.” It used to bother me, but as you get older you become more selective about what to be bothered by. If a new acquaintance slips up and calls me “Nate,” I generally let it slide.

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