If my husband leaves me tomorrow, I blame the chandelier. I won’t hold a grudge against it, but it will definitely receive every side-eye I have to give from now on. It will suspend above my dining room table mockingly reminding me of my overwhelming desire to leap before I look. Of course, it’s not the chandelier’s fault. It’s 100%, unwaveringly my fault. I cannot contain myself sometimes and this time was no different.