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How Can I Miss You if You’re Never Gone?

Gibraltar window

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A question that I ask Mr. Husband frequently is “how can I miss you if you’re never gone?”  Sounds kinda cold on the face of it but let’s dig a little deeper. The hub-man works from home is also a home body by nature. He is a hermit with separation anxiety, if that makes any sense. If he actually does leave the house he calls me at least once, usually more, while he’s gone. “What kind of pickles do you want?” My reply “didn’t know we needed pickles. I don’t want pickles, as a matter of fact I hate pickles. Stop calling me.” … 10 minutes later the phone rings again. Guess who?

Before we married I considered asking for a prenuptial agreement. The terms would be that he agreed to leave the house, without me, for a duration of 3 hours, once per month. Furthermore he was to agree that during that time he would not call me. If he was dying the hospital would call. In other words, give me some breathing room. Should have stuck to my guns.

I have often pondered the mystery of how he managed to not grow mold from lack of sunlight before we met. This is a man who took the concept of the man cave and went to the extreme. He had light blocking shades on the bedroom windows. The kitchen windows looking out over the back yard were covered with wood blinds, closed of course. The great view to the patio through the sliding glass doors was blocked by a heavy, dark wood, shuttered room divider that collapsed with a thunderous crash if you batted your eyelashes too vigorously. Some progress is underway after 6 years of whittling away at the darkness. The blinds are in a dump somewhere. The room dividers were passed to his niece. (I bet the darn things were fashioned from the bones of ancestors.)

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