I arrived inside our apartment to find my husband asleep in bed, my dinner in the warming drawer, and two wineglasses on the counter. One empty, one full. I sat down heavily with my dinner, and as I drank the wine, I stared at his empty glass, musing on what I was doing with my life. It wasn't like I'd blown him off for dinner, and yet...it sort of was. Was this spousal abuse of some kind? I didn't know and was too drowsy to think too much about it.I forgot, clearly, that you aren't supposed to mix Ambien and alcohol. The rules are clear on that. But I was headed straight to bed, so it didn't matter, right? I distinctly remember rolling my commuting jeans and underwear off as one unit, like a dirty rubber band, and slipping into a pair of cotton panties and a camisole top. Then I crawled in next to my snoring bear of a husband and slept the sleep of the damned.I woke up the next morning feeling great...birds shining, sun chirping. My cotton panties were neatly folded by the side of. "Miss me?" she smiled."How'd you guess," I smiled back.Jen and I then took a seat at the table and held hands as we watched the process.After about forty-five minutes, Jezebel briefly returned to tell me that the construct in Quinby's brain was functioning correctly. Jezebel then left in favor of Jen. "That's so cool how you do that," I smiled."Yeah, I can tell you love me for my construct," laughed Jen."We both know that's not true, but still it doesn't make it any less cool."The table then began to move away from the helmet device. The restrains were released as now apparently they were no longer necessary. The table aligned and stopped moving under a see-through canopy which seemed to lower over Quinby's and appeared to make a seal around his body. I then saw that a hose with tiny four tiny tendrils and one larger one come out of the base of the table near his head and began to seal off his, nostrils, mouth and ear canals. After a couple of moments the newly formed chamber began to.
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