Almost a year ago this evening, I was getting ready for bed. It was a Sunday night. I washed my face, brushed my teeth and as I was getting into bed, I flipped the television on.
I ordinarily read before bed, but that night, I felt inclined to watch TV. I hopped in bed hoping to find SNL on Hulu when there his face was.
The most evil human in the world, perpetrator of the 9/11 attacks, glaring at me. Brian Williams was reporting that our Navy Seals had indeed killed him. Osama Bin Laden was dead.
Jubilation. I know I shouldn't have felt that way over his death, but I did. Seeing as how Matt was there with me the day we learned his name, I knew he must be filled in on the news.
I ran downstairs, sputtering and shrieking. I stopped three steps away from the first floor of our house and said very dramatically,
"Matt, Obama is DEAD!"
(Read that carefully.)
Here was my husband's reaction:
(Puts head in hands.) "What? Oh no, oh no, oh no. He's been assassinated. I can't believe it. He's dead? They killed him??" (All in shocked, sad voice.)
While he was processing what I said, I was processing his reaction. Why is he reacting this way? Back up...
Oh, I messed up one little letter and now he thinks....
"No, no honey. OSama Bin Laden is dead. He's dead. Obama is fine. Probably celebrating with Michelle and Bo."
He told me I'd done enough, and to go to bed.