Too damned logical

I had a bit of a melt-down after work last night. When I got home from work, Chebbar and I were discussing all manner of things -- going for a walk, loading the car up with garage sale crap to take to Mom's, dinner, how to prepare dinner, how we (read: I) didn't get enough vegetables to get us through the week's dinners, his job, my job, house selling/buying/hunting. All of a sudden, I was sitting on the kitchen floor in tears. I tried to reign it in and regain control, but I ended up telling Chebbar I'd be right back and escaped to the bathroom.

A short while later, he poked his head in the door to find me sitting on the toilet lid, leaning over the counter, crying into my folded arms. All he did was silently reach out to gather me into his arms and hug me, but that turned the crying into sobbing. I couldn't explain it. I couldn't articulate what was making me cry. I couldn't express the feeling of being utterly and completely overwhelmed. I still don't know what, exactly, my issue was. All I know is that I hate not having a reason for being so bloody upset.

An hour or so later, as we lazed on the couch, I sheepishly admitted to Chebbar that I felt better. He looked at me and told me the reason didn't matter: if I felt better, that was all that mattered.

God, I love that man.