Tom Is On The Road Again

Tom leaves tomorrow for our home in Wyoming.

He's driving.

The thing about Tom is he doesn't like to stop. He drives all the way through because he wants to get finished as soon as possible. Of course he has to stop for gas but if you mention taking a rest at a hotel he'll puff up and look all insulted that you'd dare suggest such a thing.

It's a sixteen hour drive back to Wyoming.

I keep telling him that if he gets tired that he needs to pull over.

"I'm not going to get tired," he says each time.

"But if you do..."

"I won't."

I've been snuggling up to him a lot more today. I always worry before he leaves.

"Could I have some space?" he asked me gently after I attached myself to his waist.

Space? Seriously? Just a few days before he followed me everywhere. And now he wants some SPACE?

He always gets mildly cranky before a trip. He basically just wants to be left alone as he goes over his map and recites directions in his mind.

"I love you," I told Tom five minutes ago and he grunted a response in return. His brain is 90% focused on the drive now. I suppose I'm glad that it is. I'd be worried if he were the flighty type.

"Remember that the upstairs toilet doesn't flush at home," I said to Tom earlier as he loaded up his truck.

It's true. For some reason the toilet won't flush. It's not because the string is detached. I checked. I've become somewhat of a toilet expert since Tom has gone. The downstairs toilet stopped flushing and it WAS because the chain had broken off. But the upstairs one is acting all weird.

"I'll call housing about it," Tom assured me.

I hope he doesn't forget. What if he takes a massive dump and then remembers, uh oh, this toilet doesn't flush? Then our entire house will smell like the Bog of Eternal Stench.

I'm also paranoid about the state of the house. He'll be back there Tuesday around one in the morning. I come back Thursday. That leaves him two days to make a mess. One time he scourched a pan while making macaroni and cheese and somehow managed to burn the bottom of a strainer. I'm a little afraid for my saucepan.

"Please be safe," I've been saying to Tom all day.

"I'll be FINE," Tom promises each time. He acts like he's annoyed but deep down I think it pleases him that he's loved so much.

He just announced that he's going to bed a few minutes ago. I gave him a kiss goodnight and said that I'd see him at home.

"Wait. You're not going to wake up and see me off?" Tom wondered.

Um.

He's waking up at five in the morning.

I am not a morning person.

"Well. I'll see you Thursday you know...." I trailed off.

"You don't want to see me off?" Tom puffed his lower lip out.

"Can I say goodbye when you get out of bed?" I asked hopefully.

Tom's lip remained out.

Geez.

"I mean...I GUESS I can see you off," I mumbled. Sometimes this wife business is a lot of work. I hate waking up because it takes me forever to get back to sleep. Tom doesn't understand this. He can fall back asleep easily. One time there was a loud crash in the house and Tom bolted straight up and went to check it out. It turned out the cat had knocked over a pile of magazines. It took me two hours to get back to sleep but Tom went back to snoring less than twenty minutes later.

I think it's his military training that allows him to do that.

"Tom. If I wake up at five I'll be scary looking. I don't want your last memory of me to be frightening..." I said, trying to find an excuse.

"My last memory? Am I dying?" he questioned. I could see a smile playing on his lips.

"You KNOW what I mean! I don't want to scare you...like you'll be driving along going 'la la la' and then that imagine of me with the big hair and dark rimmed eyes will pop in your head and you'll be all, 'AHHHH!' and suppose you drive off the road? I couldn't LIVE with myself if--" I said passionately. I even pounded my palm with my fist.

Tom covered my mouth. He's used to my speeches. "First of all," he said, lowering his hand. "I will NEVER be going 'la la la.' Second of all, I think you look cute when you first wake up. You're all confused and remind me of a frightened animal."

Oh. A frightened animal? Which one? A cute one I hope. I'm not sure if I'd like it if he's thinking of me as a scary old bear.

"So I'll see you bright and early at five AM," Tom said, raising in his eyebrow.

"Yes," I mumbled.

Ugh.