Let me invite you into my house.
It probably looks a little like yours.
So one morning, rushing to feed our crying toddler, my husband, Adam, drops a gallon of milk.
He is so mad.
He starts aggressively cleaning and cuts his hand under the fridge.
He's bleeding, hates blood, and we're out of bandages, so he drives to the pharmacy.
On his way home, he rear-ends an Uber.
All before breakfast.
That's stress.
It's a little hilarious, but mostly heartbreaking.
