My husband just returned from a business trip.
You know that I straight-up, flat-out LOVE him right? So I am flummoxed about why I would like him to get back on an airplane right now and give me another week or so without him.
There are a few possibilities:
California King all to myself people. All. to. myself. I sprawled over every inch of it. I slept every second of those nights – nary a snore to disturb me. Yes. Yes, the little people interrupted but that is completely beside the point.
Zero accommodating. I was the boss. You might not know this about me, but I have a crush on being the boss. I decided, without consultation, what we would do and when we would do it. I didn’t check with anyone else. I didn’t consider anyone’s feelings. I just did it. So awesome!
I HAD to do everything myself so I stopped whining about it, put on my big girl pants and DID the stuff. It was liberating. Okay, and revealing, and shameful – why can’t I do that when he’s around? Uh. I could. That’s the answer to that question. But when he’s here, I don’t. Instead, I harrumph about… woe is me, I’m so picked on, I do so much, no one helps me. Yyyuck.
While he was gone, we talked every day and he said sweet things about missing me and I was nice back. We weren’t slogging through the normalness of every day. We were kinder, more thoughtful to and of each other.
He wasn’t gone long enough for the novelty to wear off. I missed him but I didn’t miss miss him yet. Also, I am 100% sure I only enjoyed having him gone because I knew he was coming back. To be clear, I have no wish for him to be gone permanently or even for a long period of time. Just long enough to miss miss him.
I will have to wait another year or so for his next business trip. In the meantime, I suppose I could practice being kind, positive, and less selfish when he is here.
By the way, while he was gone, he also made me laugh a lot. Day one, I get this call…
Him: “So uh. I forgot to pack pants.”
Me: “Come again?”
Him: “I thought I had pants but I don’t – only the ones I’m wearing. I’m going to have to buy some pants while I’m here.”
Me (laughing): “Okay. Good luck with that!”
Me (thinking – not, heavens no, not saying this aloud): You are six feet nine inches tall. You are not going to be able to find pants.
The next day…
Him: “I don’t have a car and it turns out the gift shops here at the resort don’t have pants with a 38″ inseam.”
Me: “You don’t say?”
Me (thinking): You haven’t bought pants for yourself in 20 years. You have no idea.
The next day (after he told the pants story to his colleague):
Colleague: “Are those new pants? They are fabulous!”
Him: “What? These old things? They are so comfortable, it feels as if I’ve been wearing them for days.”