Here I was, all like, Oooo! Look at me, I'm handling things so well! and Aren't we just the shit, getting our relationship all squared away and perfect!
Then Mr. B gets a call with less-than-optimal results from a pathology report, and all of a sudden the future, which had previously been a rose-strewn path tinted with a rosy, twinkling glow and surrounded by happy, rubbery cartoon flowers and birds bouncing in time and singing a cheery song, now appears dark and gray and foggy and scary and full of Unknowns with nasty, sharp, pointy teeth and background music from Night on Bald Mountain.
You know, I really f'n hate it when that happens.