"Piper?" I can't find a damn thing in this house. I always thought having more space would make things easier, but my wife and I have very different ideas of where things should go. I lost every one of those arguments when we moved here. She stayed up all night unpacking after I went to bed, and, by default, got to establish the locations of items in the new house.
"Yeah?" she calls to me from across the house before appearing in the doorway to the master bedroom.
"Where's the aspirin?" My head is pounding and the frustration I'm feeling toward having to search for it is only exacerbating the problem.
Walking toward me, she says, "Does your head still hurt? How long has this been going on now? Two days?" She continues past me to the closet at the end of the hall.
"This makes day three
