I woke up this morning with a spring in my step and a song in my heart. My dear, sweet husband–the one who is MIA most of the time due to his responsibilities with nursing school–is going to be home for the next two days.
Forty-eight hours. All husband, all the time.
I let him sleep in while I went to the kitchen to make him breakfast.
He woke to the smell of warm blueberry muffins.
We shared our breakfast, and made our plans for the day. I had a hair appointment, and I would pick up groceries for dinner. And when I got home, we would don our PJs, snuggle up on the couch and revel in the fact that we had nothing to do.
Nothing. Not a thing. All day long laziness. Perfection.
I made my grocery list, took my shower, and found my husband snoozing on the couch. I covered him with his favorite afghan, kissed him on the forehead, and set out to take care of my errands.
My haircut took longer than usual, so I rushed through the grocery store, tossing tomatoes, yeast rolls, cheese and eggs (ok, well, I didn’t toss the eggs. Cuz, ya know, they break) into my cart willy nilly.
|It was like an episode of Supermarket Sweep,
except without the big hair and acid-washed jeans. (source)
All I wanted was to get home, so I could spend the rest of the day nestled under my husband’s arm.
Finally, with a carload of groceries and freshly cropped hair, I reached my destination. Brian met me at the door, took a few bags from me and said, “Wow, that didn’t take long at all…I thought you’d be gone a little longer.”
Red flag number one.
Oblivious, I replied with a cheerful “I know!” I was pleased with my record time. Two hours for a haircut and grocery shopping–just call me Speedy Gonzalez.
|Andale’! Andale’! Arribe! Arribe!|
I started chatting with my husband as we put the groceries away together. He grabbed every single refrigerated item in one armload and shoved them all onto the top shelf of the fridge.
Red flag number two.
Still oblivious, I proceeded to tell him all about how I was going to spoil him for the next 36 hours. I got his favorite snacks at the grocery store. Dinner was going to be a veritable smorgasbord of all his favorite things.
I was telling him all about how I even bought him cookies (because I deserve the Wife of the Year award) when I turned around and found that I was talking to an empty kitchen.
You guessed it. Red flag number three.
Thirty seconds later, and I heard the unmistakable sound of a very loud movie playing from the living room.
Because nothing says romance like some robot-on-robot action.
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No worries, readers…there’s still plenty of time for romance today. Besides, I blogged through the boring part. Now I get to go cuddle up with the husband and watch skinny little Shia LeBeouf kick some serious robot arse. (I know, I know…it’s called “suspension of disbelief” for a reason, people…