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Friday, February 8, 2013

Nancy Out of Town, Day FIve: The Post Mortem

Figure 1: House in reasonable order
Nancy's flight comes in today.  I'll meet her at the airport, and we'll go to a restaurant we like for maybe some fried oysters and margaritas.  Frankly, the most difficult part of her absence was coming up with these darn blogs; not that I blame you, dear reader, but I mean, how many different things can you find to write about when it comes to straightening the house?  Nancy won't come home to a palace of gleaming floors and sparkling counter tops, but even with the two of us, the house is apt to deteriorate a smidge during the weekdays.  The truth is, housekeeping is not nearly so arcane or difficult as husbands sometimes like to make out.  My eighty year-old father-in-law swears he does not know how to operate a washing machine.  He will stand before a pair of dials clearly labeled things like "large load" "small load" and "wash" as perplexed as if before a helicopter cockpit.

Figure 2: Airplane
Figure 3: Oysters and Margarita
The thing foremost in my mind, right now, however, is Nancy.  Because I suddenly realize how much I'm looking forward to seeing her.  It's the strange thing about missing someone; when she's gone, I don't spend the silent hours gazing at her photograph with tear-filled eyes, but the thought that I'll see her in just a few hours makes my - oh, lord, this will sound so corny, so forgive me, but this is an actual, verifiable physiological fact - my heart beats just a little quicker.  Not a lot quicker, not like I've been running wind-sprints or something, but I can feel it right now.

So to recap.  House, not perfect but acceptable.  Tonight, oysters and margaritas.  Pulse, a little quicker.  Nancy, coming home.

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