I lift up my spray gun nozzle and point it at his face

1 PM, and I’m in the shower cubicle, choking on bleach fumes; my excitement at selling the house, I think [scrub... scrub], has been worn thin [scrub... scrub] by constant cleaning.

I lift up my spray gun nozzle and point it at his face

The shower door opens unexpectedly. I jump. It is my husband, shouting something at me.

He looks extremely nervous.

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