So here’s a conversation I’m having a lot this week:
ME: What are you guys doing for Valentine’s Day?
INNOCENT FRIEND: Oh, we’re going to-
ME: Shut up. My husband isn’t even going to be here. He’s abandoning me!
Thus begins my now tired rant on the unfairness of my husband’s job in general, and his current project in particular. If I’m feeling ambitious, I might even slip in a little something about how heartless my friend is to be bragging about their romantic plans when I’m clearly suffering.
I like to mix it up.
As I write this post, my man is sitting at the airport waiting for a flight that may never arrive and, when it does, will almost certainly crash due to an “event” of nonlinear catastrophic structural exasperation. This, as far as I can tell, is totally a thing. And my husband is an engineer who has been unable to prove otherwise to my satisfaction.
However, I am ever on the lookout for opportunities to manufacture a theme and an excuse to tell you more about me, and the lead-up to this trip offered many conversations of varying intensity.
ME: Can we just snuggle forever?
HIM: Because eventually I’d die and start to stink… And not necessarily in that order!
OOH! Interesting thing you didn’t know about me: today is my birthday! Yesterday was also my birthday, and tomorrow will be my birthday.
Confused? Get used to it.
That is the card I got from my husband last year, and I’m sure you won’t be surprised to learn that I am milking the hell out of that thing.
Scene: A grocery store….
ME: I can’t believe you’re leaving me on my birthday!!
HIM: (looks helplessly around at the teddy bears and chocolate everything) I….
ME: It’s just so heartless!
HIM: (getting “even I’m not that bad” looks from Last-Minute Shopper Guy) Okay, but I’m also coming back on your birthday. Won’t that be nice?
ME: Don’t you try to logic your way out of this one.
However, good OCD wife that I am, I dutifully pulled out the list app and the packing list I use for all of his business trips and packed him up last night. He’s not allowed to help because he forgets things and he doesn’t know how to fold stuff so it fits best in a suitcase.
ME: You know, when I packed you for Wroclaw I watched all those packing videos on youtube to get the most efficient methods down…. But I can’t remember that quick shirt fold.
HIM: (watching) I read somewhere that it helps if you hum the Tetris song while you pack
For the record, I really will miss him terribly. I always do when he’s gone. I don’t sleep, for one thing, which forces our apathetic teenager to follow me around picking up the things I drop or randomly set down, check on me frequently to make sure I’ve remembered to eat, and insist that he doesn’t need a ride anywhere badly enough to trust my tired ass behind the wheel.
Why then, you’re likely wondering, do I not just go with him? Well, here’s how that conversation went:
HIM: So I have to go back to LA to (technical mumbo-jumbo) the (more tech) test on the (honestly, I’m sure he’s making up at least half of these words)
ME: Okay, well obviously I’d rather you not, but at least it’s domestic this time. When is it?
HIM: Leaving on the 11th, back on the 18th
HIM: I know that’s not ideal-
ME: Send someone else. Send one of the single guys!
HIM: Who am I going to send? M—?
ME: Of course not M—, he’s an idiot, and he breaks things. Someone else.
HIM: Okay, so I was thinking that maybe you could go with me for this one?
ME: Excellent plan honey, just three questions: who will watch the cats, who will take the dogs – including a foster! – and where will our irresponsible kid be staying while we’re on this spontaneous, last minute holiday?
HIM: Yeah, but I figured if I offered, you’d be less mad.
Would anyone care to place a bet on how well that worked?
So I’m here and he’s just now taking off because of course his outbound flight was delayed by three hours but they didn’t announce that until I was already back home. I’ll have the whole bed to myself and won’t be able to sleep a wink, but I’m sure when he gets back I’ll take some crap from him about how I hog the pillows. Or maybe not, because before he left we had this conversation:
ME: I can’t believe you’re abandoning me for Valentine’s Day!
HIM: I’m sorry.
ME: You will be.
I haven’t even got a good ending for this post; I’ve just got more things to whine about. So now you know what it’s like to actually be around me this week, I guess. It’s not even that I don’t have enough to do while he’s gone, or that I need him around to take care of me, just that everything is slightly off when he’s not here. Like I’ve somehow become dependent on his painful brand of humor.
ME: While you’re gone, who will say stupid things and then stare at me until I laugh nervously?
HIM: I don’t know (stares)
ME: (helpless giggle)
HIM: Told you I’m funny.