My husband was supposed to be home over two hours ago. However, a bad accident shut the interstate down, and they got stuck for two hours.
That’s definitely not something anyone could anticipate (which is why they try to leave plenty of time on their way TO a gig) and they were the luckiest of everyone out there… they had a bathroom the whole time. Sorry, when I see people stuck in traffic for hours at a time, I always think how awful it would be if you need to use the bathroom and if you’re diabetic and need food. But I digress…
So here I am, laying on the couch, waiting to go pick up my husband from the bus. Their original arrival time was perfect for me to go get him and go to bed at my normal time. This new ETA? It just throws me off.
They weren’t far enough behind to justify going to bed, but they’re far enough behind for me to be getting grumpy and ready for sleep.
I’ve tried to keep myself busy this whole time, and I got a lot done. Almost all the laundry is done. And I’ve gotten some paperwork done. But now I’m over it. I’m ready for him to be home.
An hour to go…
After being out for two weeks, my husband is officially en route to home. In fact, by the time I post this, he should only be 6 hours out.
Don’t get me wrong, I am a-ok with being on my own and his being gone for long periods of time. I’m just out of practice of it, I guess, since its been a long time since he’s been gone for more than maybe four or five days at a time. (Whereas, when we got married, he’d be gone for weeks at a time regularly!)
But: I CAN’T WAIT!
I am so ready for him to be home for a few days.
I’m ready to have to keep his side of the bathroom vanity free of make-up and my curling iron of flat iron.
I’m ready to not be able to sleep in the middle of the bed, with my laptop open to keep me company.
I’m ready to cook full meals for two instead of half-cooking for one. I’m even ready to bicker with him over my little “kitchen rules.”
I’m not ready to give up the driver’s seat of my truck, but, hey, I can’t keep all the fun of that truck for myself.
I’m ready to navigate around his suitcase, be able to get a hug any time I want it, have him come up behind me and scare me to where I get angry and yell at him while he laughs, and to look at all his pictures from this run and hear all his tales.
I’m ready for countless other nuances of married life that disappears when one of us leaves on the run. The wheels on the bus go round-and-round. And I’m excited that they are rolling my way.