Wednesday, March 05, 2008

Brrring, Brrring

Actually, since I'm referring to my husband's cell, it should be the opening to "Back in Black", but since I can't type music on my blog, I'll just go with the traditional phone sound.


I have a bad habit of calling my husband at work a few times each day. I didn't always do it, but it's developed over time and now I have to break it. Don't get me wrong. He doesn't complain and as far as I know, his boss hasn't either. But I don't like to bug him while he's working.

Yesterday was not a habit breaking day. I called him about four times. One to thank him for taking out the garbage every week. I had seen a woman wrestling with her cans dumpsters and it made me think of how I never have to take out the garbage anymore. (The first draft of that sentence provided a great visual. Couldn't bear to just delete it.) I love that. Then I called to tell him the transmission in the Vanagon was acting funny. Then I called him to ask if he'd bring home hot dog buns. Then, when my plans for the afternoon went haywire, I called to cancel the buns. All before 2:30 pm.

That's when he said he was packing up and coming home.

"What?? WHY??" I asked, dismayed not because he was on his way home, but because he sounded upset and I was afraid he was hurt or sick or in trouble...you know. I must have sounded panicky, because he replied,

"It's really slow. *pause* Why don't you want me home?"

Dear lord. All those jokes about my "piece on the side, Paolo" had come home to roost, as such jokes will. I quickly assured him that I was delighted to have him home, then told him to get the buns after all, since his coming home early knocked my afternoon plans back online. So, after she finished with her homework, Drama Queen got a coveted trip to the library, the little ones got a coveted trip to the park right by the library and I got a coveted afternoon with my sweet, sexy piece on the side, Paolo husband.

2 comments:

Candi said...

I was the same way when my husband worked out of the home, we talked several times a day. Whenever he was on the road going to appointments we always chatted. Although some days I got nothing done because of it! LOL

I think it's great that you talk throughout the day and as long as hubby isn't complaining or his boss, keep it going. It's sweet :)

Karen said...

Sounds like it was a fun day for all.

I, somehow, end up calling my husband for silly things too. I think it's my undying love for him that makes me want to hear the sound of his voice.

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It's a crazy one. Here's the guide.


Mr. Clairol: My darling husband and love of my life. He's a mechanic, dyes his hair platinum blond and drives to work on a Vespa. I swear he isn't gay.


Drama Queen: My fourteen year old daughter who is frighteningly brilliant and gorgeous to boot. Of course, I am her mother.


Missy Hoohaw: The four year old daughter. She loves animals and roughhousing and earned her name by being a 28 year old Marine in a preschooler's body. No, she doesn't swear and drink. But she can run twenty miles in the rain and give a mighty Hoo-rah.

Big Red: Our toddler son, who is redheaded and proud of it. He's got a healthy temper and the sweetest smile this side of the Mississippi, so it evens out. I was worried about defending him from his sisters at first. Now, I worry about the girls.


The Beast: Our dog, who is a mutt, heavy on the Great Dane. He's named after a heavy metal guitarist in my husband's all time favorite band. This says it all, believe me.


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