I've run out of TiVo to watch. I don't feel like putting together the second bookcase. It's too hot to hang pictures, and I don't have the energy to start a book right now. All I want to do is slightly cuddle (because it's too hot for full-on cuddling) with my husband on the couch and talk about my day and listen to his.
But the clock is slowly creeping toward midnight, and my husband has yet to come home from work.
"Enough is enough, honey," I said after speed-dialing his work number around 10:30 p.m. (His work number - not his cell number - is the primary number for him in my phone.) "The work will still be there tomorrow."
"I agree, but it'll be at least another hour," he said, sighing.
"That's not OK. I am NOT happy about this," I said more for his sake than mine. I absolutely need that "down time" at the end of a workday - esecially a crappy work day (HELLO HAPPY HOUR!) - but when you come home well after bedtime, it doesn't leave much room for chilling out and taking a breather before you've got to shut off that alarm clock and start another unbearingly long workday.
So I know yesterday was supposed to be for fathers (does being the father of a dog count?) but for the future father of my children, I just want to say thank you for all the sacrifices you make for this family. You're the most dedicated, hardworking person that I know and while it takes you away from me for much longer than I like many days, I know it's so you can continue to support our family and make sure we're well cared for.
I love you, hubby, but I miss you. Come home.
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