Hooray

DH comes home today: HOORAY. It has been a long 8 days without him.

One would think that our schedule/non-schedule of his working days, nights, off, days, nights, off... would prepare me for any absences. It does not. In fact, I am finding that the longer we have this ridiculous schedule, the harder it is on me, psychologically, mentally, and physically. I hear things. I hide things from the presupposed intruder. Every morning I have to un-hide them -- if I can find them. Pocketbook. iPod. Laptop. Cameras.

Every little sound, each little creak and pop in this 75 year old house jerks me to a sitting position in the bed as I listen, round-eyed, with my thumb poised over the "9" on the telephone. If LD clears her nasal passages, (dogs' way of ensuring they can catch a new smell), I am out of the bed on my bare feet, ready to fight or flee.

Sometimes, unable to go back to sleep, I gravitate to this luminous monster to play games of solitaire or write on The Book. I wrote a LOT this week.

I wake up in the morning exhausted and cranky.

Plus, I miss him. I miss his smile, his music, his asking how I am, his appreciation for any old thing I cook for him. His cuddling the cats. His working on my car, which is sometimes the only way he can tell me he loves me. The way he disappears to a remote TV when a race is on. His vehement retorts when some conservative makes predictably ridiculous assertions about the war, the economy, the Poor (they don't even GET that whole subject, but don't get me started.) His unfailing optimism. His unerring way of doing The Right Thing. His ability to see the Big Picture when some tiny mishap sets me off. I miss him.

I sent an email to my DMIL this morning with this line: I have never missed him so much. He can leave his drawers on the rug all week long for all I care; I won’t say a word.

He won't be happy at all that I have published his drawers for all the world to see. See? Isn't that sweet? Ah, I miss him.