And then… the phone rang.
The Husband and I are not phone people. Let me illustrate. During the 18 months he was in Iraq, we had approximately 68 phone conversations. That averages to be one call per week. But the math doesnt work! you cry. Yeah, it does, if you count the weeks he was home for leave and the weeks where we had nothing to talk about so why waste the phone card minutes. There are some people I can sit on the phone and chat with for hours. These are people who enjoy witty banter. And can engage in it. The Husband is not one of those people, no matter how hard he tries, for a variety of reasons. First and foremost his lingering apalachan accent slows his retorts down to the speed of a mildly retarded child’s pace. Yeah, that’s mean, but give me a fucking break! He hasn’t lived in the wilds of Hillbillyville in 17 years. I’ve met his friends, the ones who grew up in the SAME TOWN. They speak just fine. One can even banter in a mildly witter manner when he’s not stoned off his ass. The husband tends to blame his speech on ” my speech impediment”. He also blame this said impediment for his grammatical faux pas. Uh, no. ‘We was going to the store’ is not the product of a speech impediment anymore than referring to pavement as ashfelt is. Okay? Why does this get under my skin so badly? Make my want to scratch like a hallucinating meth addict? Because the man is not an idiot. He is not stupid, a dullard, slow, or dumb. But by god he sounds it sometimes. But I digress…
And then… the phone rang. Actually, it rang another 4 times before I picked it up, but I’ll omit that redundancy. This time.
When I answered it, I was addressed as beautiful, sexy, love of my life, and best wife in the world all within roughly two sentences. Oh shit.
Lo and behold, the promise of leave for a nascar race has been dangled at him like a moonpie in front of Paula Dean. And it will only cost… I am the keeper of the coins in our house. He has his allowance for playtime and whatnot, but it’s not much. He’s in the army for chrissake. We’re not even made of monopoly money. And in these times of Economegeddon, the fact that we are finally free of credit card debt makes the idea of “I’ll pay it off using my allowance” about as appealing as a bikini wax. And I don’t do those either.