I am that woman from the movie, the scene where she gets ready for bed, while talking to her husband. She’s looking at her phone, picking a book from the stack on her nightstand, chatting the whole time about nothing. She climbs in bed. She takes of her ring. Then, she moisturizes her hands.
I didn’t think that happened in real life. Who does that, really? I just did that. Oh, dear Reader, I’m that woman in her late thirties. The one that has hand lotion at the ready. Can I blame the cold, dry New England winter?
When did I become this snapshot of life that is so common it’s in every rom com and drama? How did I get here?
Alphabetic Fate 
Question is, my dear, would you want to be anywhere else? Kiss Matt on the forehead, pat the dog and cats. Moisturize after petting.
The proper order of operations here, of course.