When I’m excited over something, my voice rises in volume. My late husband didn’t like it. I would come rushing inside his sanctuary (where he was lost to me at all times) with a voice loud enough to wake up the dead.

Dear husband would totally inflate my spirits with a stern admonition — Pipe down! Do you want to tell me, or you want the whole neighborhood to hear?

That would dampen me down considerably. It was like being doused with a bucket of ice cold water. My voice would chasten to a murmur with the immediate effect of his words.  Over his objection to my loud voice, I would forget what I had come forth to babble, and would leave the room in a huff.

That huff used to be forgotten in a hour, or so, and I would return to hound him again.



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