So It Wasn't a Fib After All

On Saturday, my wife informed me that she had been contacted by the therapist with whom she had been trying to set up an appointment for sex therapy. This was something I had persuaded her to pursue not quite four weeks ago.

She had started the process soon after the talk, but she said it would take them two weeks to call back with an appointment time. That seemed to be a very unusual way to operate a counseling service.

When the two weeks passed without followup, I presumed that either the organization was poorly run or my wife had lied about the contact she had made with them.

Further validating her contact was a large envelope, with a return address for the organization, delivered in our mailbox on Friday.

Her first appointment is at 10 a.m. Wednesday. I hope that this is a good therapist, not one that is obsessed with recovering false memories.