I lost everything in the post-natal depression.
When my kids become wild and unruly, I use a nice, safe playpen. When they're finished, I climb out.
Early in my life I had made a pact with myself. I would never eat anything that moved when I cooked it, excited the dog, or inflated upon impact with my teeth.
If the nest is truly empty, who owns all this junk?
Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what.
A friend never defends a husband who gets his wife an electric skillet for her birthday.