He’s baaaa-aack.
Not that you ever knew he was gone. Seems I have an aversion to announcing to the wide internets that my husband is out of town on business. You know, inviting the crazies and all.
He’s back now. After four long days away, in Dublin, Georgia. Which has nothing on Dublin, Ireland, I’d venture to guess.
We welcomed him back to the madness with a spaghetti dinner–the mess from which likely rivals that from a full-fledged food fight.
I missed him.
No. Not just because there were eight-legged creepie crawlies to extinguish and smelly trash receptacles to lug to the curb.
I miss him when he’s gone. I don’t sleep right–awaking to every little bump in the night.
We’re one of those couples that go to bed together (I mean literally people, don’t let your minds wander) every single night. We brush our teeth side by side before methodically stripping the decorative pillows from the bed and pulling back the comforter. Every night, we crawl under the sheets simultaneously, both of us exhaling the second our heads hit our respective pillows.
And then we talk. Sometimes for just a moment or two, and sometimes long into the night. Either way, it’s a ritual I’ve come to require, in order to drift slowly to dreamland. We’ve taken a stab at the ritual via phone, but it just isn’t the same.
Tonight, though? I’ve got the real thing. And after three virtually sleepless nights, something tells me I’ll sleep like a baby.
I’m curious, though. Am I a wimp and a wuss all rolled into one? Do you lose sleep when/if your spouse has to pick up and go for a day or two? I’ve heard tell that some wives actually enjoy the time alone. Is it thoroughly disgusting that we lie in bed talking every night? Or is that a pretty standard thing for married folk? On which side do you fall?




