It was late on a Saturday morning and the curses and banging noises she heard coming from the living room were clue enough for Karen Dubois that her husband Adam had risen at long last.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, she heaved a long suffering sigh.
It was hardly surprising that he should have slept in so late considering how long they’d stayed at that Christmas party the night before, or that he should be feeling more than a little under the weather this morning what with how much he’d had to drink. Getting him a glass of tap water and a bottle of the strongest painkillers they kept in the house, she headed for the next room to see what was left of her spouse.
As she walked into the room, she was expecting to find him sprawled in a limp heap in his favorite chair with all of the lamps switched off and the blinds drawn against the glare of morning sunlight reflecting off the blanket of snow outside. Adam would be moaning and groaning over the hangover he simply had to be suffering through, she was certain, and would be vehemently swearing off booze for probably the hundredth time. Karen was stopped in her tracks though when she found a surprising scene.