Here's my favorite "I miss my husband" picture for everyone to enjoy. :)
I'm coming home. I'm not coming home. When Tony calls, I'm never sure if it's from some far-off port or a few miles away. As faithful as I am, I still appreciate a little warning, so that I can take a quick shower and try to pull the house into some kind of respectable order. (I know...I should probably do that anyhow, but some days it seems more pointless than others.)
Today I was sure that he was calling to say that he had come home to find his truck had been towed after all...please come pick me up. No. It was to say that if someone walks into our house some night this week, I should call 911 after all, because it won't be him. (He didn't put it that way. That was my own translation.)
I guess the good news is that, although he still has to work this Sunday, we won't even notice. Poor guy.
I don't know how you do it. The not-knowing would drive me nutso!
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