Ironman just got back from being out of town for nine days. Nine days. On one hand, I think I deserve a medal. I mean, both children are accounted for. Little J can say a few more words than before (most of them can be repeated) and Little A should be just about ready for college. Or solid foods, I can’t remember. The week started with me coming down with the plague (not the bad one, just the walking plague). It hit a high point when, not one, but both of of our air-conditioning units went out during a 90 degree hot spell. But these are just highlights. There were good parts too. When the first A/C unit retired, the Littles and I had a slumber party on the other side of the house. When the first unit was fixed and the second one went out, we got to see grandpa (though he may not have considered it as “good” as we did). He gave us a crash course in cleaning out an A/C line, which I’m sure they don’t teach in preschool, so the Littles will have an edge over the other kids. During this trying week, I came up with an exciting list of five things you should NOT say to your wife while at a conference in Vegas. We’ll count down backwards, Letterman style, for dramatic impact.
5. Ugh, I missed the morning session. I overslept and woke up at 10.
4. Ugh, I only got one workout in today.
3. Ugh, this king-sized bed is too big for just me.
2. Ugh, I really hope I don’t have to take any customers to a show tonight.
And my all-time favorite is:
1. Ugh, I’m so sick of filet mignon and red wine.
To be fair, Ironman didn’t have it as good as it may seem. He also came down with the walking plague, had to fly for four and a half hours and stay up until 4 a.m. entertaining customers, when all he wanted to do was sleep. But even worse, he couldn’t be here to see Little A go swimming for the first time, or tuck the Littles in for our slumber party. So, I guess that evens things out. But I sure am craving a good filet. And I’m hoping my medal arrives before his next business trip.