A sociopath’s guide to a successful marriage

There's a dead body in my living room. I've not called the police because it was I who stabbed him. Seven times in all. The truth is, it's surprisingly difficult to dispatch someone with a vegetable knife. In case you're wondering, the dead man is not my husband. I do resent our pitiful sex life and his woeful lack of ambition, but I wouldn't murder him for it.