Phone Calls With The Husband

When Michael and I dated long-distance four years ago we had quite the routine. I would wake up every morning to an email from him (he'd written the previous night before he went to bed), send a few emails throughout the day, talk once after work, again around 7:30, and right before I went to bed. Neither of us said, "This is how it's going to happen," it just did. And the pattern stuck. Fast forward four years and we've already fallen into a similar routine. Replace the morning email with a phone call and you've got the Haynes' schedule. I love it. Neither of us are avid telephoners (you may know this by the lack of calls you receive from either of us) but we know we have to make it work.

A brief look into the life of a long-distance relationship...

Last Friday we were chatting on our drive home from work and I heard very loud, very scary noises on his end. He kept talking nonchalantly so I finally interrupted him and said, "What on earth is going on over there? I keep hearing these horribly loud explosions!" Turns out it was just the Explorer going over a few minor bumps on the highway. Perhaps a tune up is order? (Did I mention I drove it a few weeks ago and it completely turned off and shut down WHILE I WAS DRIVING? That is not OK!)

Last night Michael told me about a teacher who was kidnapped (and most likely murdered) in Coppell. I begrudgingly said, "And THIS is where you want me to move and raise a family with you? Are you kidding?!" He paused before he politely said, "Meredith, the last time someone was murdered in Coppell I was nine." Oh. Touché.

A few minutes ago Michael gave me a quick call while he was running an errand. The church was right in the middle of its daily 30-minute bell performance so we were both screaming to hear one another. Lovely. Anyway, as he stepped out of the car I heard the sound of birds chirping on his end. "Are those birds chirping?" I asked. "Yes, they are!" (Pause.) "So you're telling me that I am listening to the 29th minute of bells tolling while birds are sweetly chirping where you are? This is not fair." To which he replied, "Yeah, and the grass really is greener here."

Sidenote: The last time we were in Coppell we noticed the grass is so much greener than ours. After last year's fiasco (Click HERE and then HERE), we now notice everyone's yards... Made for a good laugh. Oh how I love the ol' hubs.

My mom was watching television this morning and learned that the term used to describe me (and others like me) is "Recession Widow." I believe that might sound worse than Spinster or Old Maid. Sigh.