Husband is leaving me.
Honestly, how can I be expected to live like this?
Plus? I have to drive him to the airport again at fuck-you-my-eyes-won’t-open-this-early o’clock in the morning.*
Because that worked out so well last time.
We’ve talked about it and I’ve guided him toward a reasonable timeline for travel prep—he actually did laundry last night so he can pack tonight, because one wouldn’t want to leave these things to the last minute, then ask the wife to stay up packing for a trip she’s not taking, would one?
So, since he’s all sorted and I expect this trip will be much less eventful than the last one** (fuck off forever, Southwest—you can’t pay us enough to book with you again) I guess I don’t really have anything to post and we can wrap up here.
Except this one thing…
HIM: (pulling out of the driveway) Why is that van parked in front of our house?
HIM: Becaaaauuuse… that’s a prisoner transport vehicle.
ME: (looks) No, it’s just a white van. (goes back to phone)
HIM: You didn’t see all the specialized gear inside?
ME: … No?
HIM: Normal people don’t drive around with a metal grate separating the back, and handcuffs dangling off that.
ME: And why would a prisoner transport be parked in our neighborhood?
HIM: Picking up someone for a parole violation?
ME: (ponders) Maybe they were here for across the street? Cops love to park across the street. (rolls eyes, remembering countless times I’ve been blocked in)
HIM: Or wherever. But that—
ME: Well nobody came to my door!
HIM: I didn’t say it was you.
ME: And if they were there for a prisoner, wouldn’t someone have been in the van?
HIM: Not if there was no prisoner yet.
ME: I don’t think they can leave all that unattended, even if it’s empty. Plus, why not just use a regular police car?
HIM: (with great and unearned authority) Because if they know they’re taking the person straight to jail or prison, they don’t want to use a black and white for that.
ME: (quietly) Or maybe they’re just kinky.
HIM: (changes subject to new icing test)***
* I am, as I’ve probably mentioned somewhere around here, a person who is genuinely surprised every time she’s presented with evidence that 5:00 happens twice a day.
** Oh! I forgot to tell you at the time—his return was delayed as well. Because of the fire in the control tower at the airport. Which was the second in two days. What. The. Actual. Fuck.
*** It does not involve cake. I know, I was disappointed too.