Home Alone

I'm a football widow!  To be more specific, I'm a football Hall of Fame widow this weekend.  Can you be a football widow if you're aren't married yet?  Whatever!  That's the title I'm going with for now.  My honey has hit the road for a guys only road trip to the football mecca in Canton, Ohio leaving me with an empty house and a lot of free time on my hands.

In contrast to my weekend away over the summer, my honey's travelling companion told us up front that he not only expected us to text back and forth during the weekend, but he was going to demand that we stay in touch.  I thought Mr. Mynd was just being funny and trying to earn bonus points, but he backed it up once the trip was under way. 

My honey had some telephonic issues related to reception.  He wasn't getting any signal to send or receive text messages.  That wasn't going to work for us, now was it?  Mr. Mynd came to the rescue by sending me updates, letting me know where they were and what they were up to throughout the day.  He even sent me pictures from one of their stops.  Wasn't that nice of him?

Eventually, they made it back to civilization and my honey's reception was restored.  What a relief!

Beyond the usual texting of "I love you" and "I miss you", I had planned to send my honey a series of pictures.  Get your mynds out of the gutter.  Not those kind of pictures!  Just little posts I'd found on facebook to make him laugh or smile or make him miss me more and want to come home sooner.  See below for examples.  But, with my honey's phone acting up, that didn't quite work out. Also, as it turned out, I was going to be far too busy to send him much in the way of texts and pictures.

To make him smile

To make him laugh

To make him want to come home sooner

Before my honey left, we made one little mistake.  I say "we" because I claim he did it and he claims I did it.  WE told my mother he was going to be away for the weekend and SHE decided that meant I would be lonely and should spend my weekend at her house, helping her clean out my childhood bedroom to get it ready to have the carpet replaced this week.  Oh, joy!

I was my mother's cleaning slave from ten in the morning Saturday until five o'clock Sunday evening.  I cleaned out old dressers, moved old furniture, boxed up old clothes and books, and vacuumed up some scarily large dust bunnies.  It was exhausting work, but it kept me too busy to miss my honey too much.  Yeah, my mom is a pretty smart cookie.  She knew how to keep me from moping around my house all weekend.  Darn her and her evil, but well-intentioned plans!

Two 10 hour days of slave labor later, all my childhood memorabilia had been sorted, stored, trashed, and/or sent home to my house for "safe keeping" (read safe keeping as: to be trashed at a later date when my mother won't know about it).  She let me go home in just enough time to run to the liquor store (to get the Sam Adams I had promised my honey would be chilling in the fridge when he got home), clean myself up and make myself pretty for my honey's return home.

I'm so glad he's finally home!