I recently read that over the course of a year couples spend about 1,095 hours together (non-sleeping). If that is true then my husband and I spend approximately 109 hours or 4 ½ days a year searching for one other. Yep, sounds about right.
I feel the blame lies squarely on his shoulders as he tends to wander. I’m sure he would say the fault is mine. We have lost each other in nearly every store we have entered. We’ve taken different turns in museums, farmers markets, art fairs and sometimes lose each other at parties. I flat out refuse to step foot into Costco with him unless I have verified that (1) he has his cell and (2) the ringer volume is set to deafening and (3) I am in possession of the car key.
Recently I lost him at an outpatient surgery center. He was my designated post-surgery driver and I could not check in without him. Suffice it to say I had to sit in the exam room for a while until my blood pressure lowered to normal and the anesthesiologist felt comfortable inserting my IV.
I’ve become adept at the Garv search, looking up and down aisles, scanning over the tops of people’s heads (he’s tall which helps in my searches) and on occasion just obnoxiously yelling his name.
A few nights ago an unexpected wrinkle appeared in the rules of this marital hide and seek. Just as we started upstairs to bed Garv said, “Guess where I’ve been.” And step by step, the conversation went like this:
Continue reading “Meta What?”
Garv and I recently celebrated our thirty-ninth anniversary. No one can stay married this long without accepting each other’s idiosyncrasies.
Because we used to hang out on Saturday nights, I need to say a good bye and thank you to Mary Tyler Moore.