The hard life of a lonely spouse.

The hard life of a lonely spouse.
I'm actually really happy at this moment, but I have to say that it is REALLY rough being physically and communication-ally apart from my husband. I haven't talked to him since a whispered, too early Monday morning phone call.

Stupid little things are really getting to me, like the (normally wonderful) fact that his side of the bed is always smooth and doesn't even need fluffing or folding in the morning. Like the fact that the soap in the shower is lasting me at least three times longer without him using it. Like the fact that his boy-cosmetics and deodorant aren't lined up on the counter right next to the sink where my elbows hit while washing my face, even though he has plenty of space in the medicine cabinet. Like the fact that the last grown-up/non "c'mere kitty" tone of voice the walls of the house heard was probably sometime mid-afternoon on Sunday. Like the fact that when the small of my back is cold in the middle of the night, I can't just wiggle over to his usual 400°F radiant sleep-heat. Like the fact that putting conjunctivitis ointment in Franklin's eyes is way easier with two people.

The hair on the bathroom floor is all long and blond. There are no boxer shorts or My Neighbor Totoro t-shirts in the washing machine. There's no cheese in the fridge. The CDs are piled up and EVEN THOUGH I PROMISE THEY'RE TOTALLY "ORGANIZED," look like they're in total disarray and not filed away in our cabinets alphabetically per genre, chronologically within each artist. I saw my coworkers kiss last night and while it was really OH MY GOD MY SWEET COWORKERS ARE KISSING AND ARE SO HAPPY, the way their lips touched made mine ache.

These negligible things expose absense and lack and I just want Erik to come home so I can feel his lips on mine and mess up the bed and watch him alphabetize CDs.