My hubby just returned from a two week trip. Originally he was only going to be gone for one. I spent the first week being rather productive. I did some blogging. A quiet house is so conducive to blogging. Plus I gave myself a project to complete so I wouldn't have time to be miserable. My project, finish unpacking the boxes in my room. Yeah, I know, we've been in this house since July, but since the hubby and I are the only ones to ever see my room, it's always the last to be cleaned, unpacked, etc. This time however it's taken even longer than usual. The first day I tried to tackle my room I discovered the problem. The closet was all jacked up. There were boxes shoved in it and the clothes were all mixed up, shirts, pants, hubby's stuff, my stuff. I had to clean out and organize the closet before I could do the room. By the end of the week it was done. The room was beautiful and ready for my hubby to be home to enjoy it.
The weekend approached and I was giddy with anticipation, but then he called and asked me if I thought he should stay another week. I wanted nothing in the world more than to have him home, but if he stayed, there would be work. Work would mean a paycheck we wouldn't have otherwise. Paychecks mean we can eat and pay bills and stupid stuff like that. He wanted to come home too. He hates Los Angeles, with it's smog, traffic, and rude people. We both decided to do the smart thing and have him stay another week. To say it was a painful decision would be an understatement. This is when I started crumbling.
That second week he was gone he missed so much.
Our oldest went to Homecoming and he wasn't here too see how beautiful she was.
We had some rain and wind which made our scarecrows fall down.
I didn't have the requisite muscles to make them stand up again.
So they stayed like this, looking like zombie scarecrows.
I think the worst though was missing his birthday. Other than a Facebook wall filled with birthday wishes, his special day passed like any other. He got up, went to work, and returned to his brother's house to sleep on an air mattress. Happy Birthday indeed. So I was determined to do something special for him in honor of his birthday upon his return. I decided I needed to bake him a cake. There's just one small problem. His favorite cake, German Chocolate, and I'm allergic to coconut. As much as it's his day and all, this is cake we are talking about. I can't make it and then not be able to eat it. He got birthday cupcakes instead. Half had German Chocolate frosting and half had Cream Cheese frosting. Compromise people. It's all about the compromise.
Today he got up and made the scarecrows upright again.
Just when I had gotten used to having zombie scarecrows.