You sit bundled up in blankets on your couch while your newest binge victim plays on the TV. Drew had four sets that evening, three hours away, and assured you he could make the drive in one night.

As you shovel ice cream into your mouth, you hear keys jingling outside the door. A soft smile spreads across your face when the thought of falling asleep cuddling with your hubby crosses your mind. It immediately falls when you see Drew walk in looking like absolute hell.

“Baby…” you coo, “what’s wrong?”

“I-I-I’m just st-st-st-st-st-str-str-stressed,” he hardly gets out and you frown a little.