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| 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.
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| Figure 2: Airplane |
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| 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.
