I Like a Man with Exceptional Fine Motor Control

My husband spends a lot of his day pretending to be an asshole. His job involves keeping bad people away from good people and that is not an occupation for the faint of heart.  Asshole is part of the job description. Seriously. I read the contract.*

Recently, the stress of work has been following Aaron home.  Really, it trails him like an annoying neighbor kid who just can't seem to get the message that he isn't wanted.  The stress makes Aaron sensitive and that makes me sensitive and before you know it everyone is suffering from a digestive complaint and a 3-day migraine. I beg. I nag. I plead with my husband to find something, anything to do that might help him de-stress. A real, old-fashioned hobby, involving his hands and various 3 dimensional supplies.**

He found one. 

I nag because I care... and because it works.

87 paper cranes were hanging in my living room this morning. He wanted it to be an even 100, but his hands gave out. It took 7 hours to fold them and 3 hours to hang them.  It took me about 30 seconds to start crying.


*No I didn't! 
**Video games do not count as a hobby. Sorry. Nope.