Even though most weekends my husband and I are home together, I don’t really see him. He’s an active guy who can’t sit still (unless he’s eating), so from the moment breakfast is finished he’s out the door to weed/mow/saw/build/tidy/paint/fix something. He surfaces briefly at lunchtime, but other than that I don’t really see him again until after the sun’s gone down.
I don’t mind, I knew what I was getting in for when I married him. But sometimes, just sometimes, I crave his company. Read the rest of this entry