Nils has been in Chicago since Sunday morning, so we're done with day 3, with 3 more to go until he's home. I was talking to my friend the night before he left and said that I was fine with him going on trips for work, I just don't want to have to see pictures of the food he's eating or the cool, fun places he's going to. I want him to pretend like he's miserable and can't stand being away from me, even though I know he's not.
So he's been posting pictures on Facebook all week of the food he's been eating and the cool places he's going to.
He called me tonight and was telling me about the fancy restaurant he went to for dinner tonight, and I said something snotty like, "Gosh, I hope you take some more pictures of your food and post it", and he said, "I know you hate my joy", and I said, "I do hate your joy."
Listen. It's the first week of summer break, and I am far from in my groove. We're all in that post-school year haze, where we don't know what to do with ourselves for the next 2 1/2 months. Yesterday I got to take the kids with me to get emissions done and then to the DMV, if that gives you a flavor of what it's like around here. Totes awesome.
So, Nils (and husbands and fathers everywhere whose wives are indignant, like me). Maybe when you post pictures of your authentic Chicago deep dish pizza, you could caption it with something along the lines of, "I'm in Chicago eating this amazing pizza- but all I taste are my tears, since I miss my wife so much and can't enjoy anything without her."
I think I would really like that.
4 comments:
Hugs and Kisses!
If I were there I would make you a pizza that would knock your mis-matched socks right off your feet and to heck with Chicago.
Hey, why DON'T we have pizza on the Saturday night you arrive. If it doesn't knock your socks off I will hide in shame.
More hugs and kisses from this end of the world!
I TOTALLY feel your pain! Brian was in Utah for a week working and living with his parents while I was at home taking care of 3 kids and packing up the WHOLE stinking house BY. MY. SELF. He would call me every night and tell me about how he and his Dad went out to dinner, how his Mom got up and made him breakfast (and she would post pictures of it on Facebook and tag me in it!!!), and how he got to sit around with a old friend and chat it up for a few hours. Then he had the never to ask me what I had done that day. I think he got a lot of, "well, I don't know. Maybe pack, pack, and more pack! I certainly didn't get to sit around on my butt all day!!!" Men. Humph.
hit the nail on the head
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