Resistance is Futile

It had been a long day. When August got home, he let me escape to a coffee shop for an hour. Once home, I found that August had comandeered the kids into picking up the living room and dining room. The dishwasher was running. August even cleaned up our bedroom. He'd laid out my pajamas and bathrobe. Once to bed, he made sure the candles over the bed would light easily. He had some massage oil. The whole evening, I realized, was calculated and masterful. How was I to resist? I didn't.