Paul wakes up on Christmas morning feeling like a discarded ornament\u2014hungover, disoriented, and questioning all his life choices. On his nightstand sits a glass of water, an aspirin, and a single red rose, like some bizarre apology from a romantic sitcom. His clothes are folded neatly, the room spotless, and there\u2019s a note from his wife promising breakfast and a homemade dinner. The kind of gesture that says, \u201cI love you\u2026 but also, you\u2019re lucky I didn\u2019t call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
Curious and still fuzzy-headed, Paul asks his son what on earth went down the night before. The kid shrugs like he\u2019s used to explaining Dad\u2019s disasters. \u201cYou came home drunk, crashed into the door, and smashed the coffee table,\u201d he deadpans. Paul blinks, trying to connect the dots between the wreckage and the rose-tinted peace treaty on his nightstand.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut if I trashed the place, why does everything look so perfect now?\u201d Paul wonders aloud, half hoping for a magic elf to appear and clean up his mess. His son grins mischievously, \u201cBecause when Mom tried to help, you yelled, \u2018Leave me alone! I\u2019m married!\u2019\u201d Apparently, even in chaos, loyalty is still a winning move. Or at least that\u2019s what Paul tells himself.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Paul wakes up on Christmas morning feeling like a discarded ornament\u2014hungover, disoriented, and questioning all his life choices. On his nightstand sits a glass of water, an… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":43121,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-43120","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n