Call off the dogs
Last night I got my hair cut and colored. Let’s just say the Big Red head requires some regular care and maintenance.
I’ve mentioned this haircut to my husband at least a dozen times. I explained to him that it takes at least two hours to get through the entire process because I have a lot of hair and that sometimes my hair stylist is running behind.
He opted to go to the movies and I went to the salon. He’d planned on going to a 7:30 show but for some reason ended up at the 5:30 show which meant he came home much earlier than expected and that’s when he got panicky – I wasn’t home yet!
He was calling my mobile phone but it was buried at the bottom of my commuter bag so I didn’t hear it. When I didn’t answer, he leapt in action.
First he called Peaches and the Chairman to see if I was with them.
Then he called the local cops (non-emergency number) to see if there had been any accidents.
Then he started walking to the salon. That’s where I met him – on the less-than-two-block walk from the salon to our house.
Me: Hi.
Deeps: I’m glad to see you’re okay.
Me: Yeah, it took a little bit longer than expected.
Deeps: It’s almost 9!
Me: Yeah, I told you it takes a long time.
Deeps: I called the police.
Me: You did not.
Deeps: I did. Then I was going to retrace your steps.
Me: You’ve been watching too many episodes of Without a Trace.
Deeps: Maybe.
Me: Did you call the salon?
Deeps: I figured I’d just walk up.
Me: You should have just called the salon and everything would have been resolved a while ago.
Now we’ve determined that if I’m an hour late, he’ll start to get panicky and he won’t do the logical thing. I blame this on his mother – he’s an only child and she doesn’t really have anything else to do but to focus all of her attention on him. (Seriously, the woman’s other interest is praying.)
I suppose it is nice to know he cares – that he still worries and that he’s a total freak. My freak.
Last night I got my hair cut and colored. Let’s just say the Big Red head requires some regular care and maintenance.
I’ve mentioned this haircut to my husband at least a dozen times. I explained to him that it takes at least two hours to get through the entire process because I have a lot of hair and that sometimes my hair stylist is running behind.
He opted to go to the movies and I went to the salon. He’d planned on going to a 7:30 show but for some reason ended up at the 5:30 show which meant he came home much earlier than expected and that’s when he got panicky – I wasn’t home yet!
He was calling my mobile phone but it was buried at the bottom of my commuter bag so I didn’t hear it. When I didn’t answer, he leapt in action.
First he called Peaches and the Chairman to see if I was with them.
Then he called the local cops (non-emergency number) to see if there had been any accidents.
Then he started walking to the salon. That’s where I met him – on the less-than-two-block walk from the salon to our house.
Me: Hi.
Deeps: I’m glad to see you’re okay.
Me: Yeah, it took a little bit longer than expected.
Deeps: It’s almost 9!
Me: Yeah, I told you it takes a long time.
Deeps: I called the police.
Me: You did not.
Deeps: I did. Then I was going to retrace your steps.
Me: You’ve been watching too many episodes of Without a Trace.
Deeps: Maybe.
Me: Did you call the salon?
Deeps: I figured I’d just walk up.
Me: You should have just called the salon and everything would have been resolved a while ago.
Now we’ve determined that if I’m an hour late, he’ll start to get panicky and he won’t do the logical thing. I blame this on his mother – he’s an only child and she doesn’t really have anything else to do but to focus all of her attention on him. (Seriously, the woman’s other interest is praying.)
I suppose it is nice to know he cares – that he still worries and that he’s a total freak. My freak.
Labels: 2006
2 Comments:
It is nice when they worry, isn't it? One night recently I had gotten out of bed to use the bathroom and when I came back the kids had all shifted places and everyone was in the big bed, leaving no room for me, so I crawled into David's twin bed that runs side car to ours. E got up a little while later and couldn't see me in David's bed in the dark (I think I was well hidden under the covers) and got up to see where I was. He looked all over the house (even the basement and the closests, even outside in the yard) checked all the locks (thinking I'd been abducted), and came back to the bedroom one last time only to find me sleeping soundly in the bed next to ours. Hopefully next time he'll take a few seconds to put on his glasses first.
I loved this post! It's nice when they worry, but it is a little unsettling when they start to panic. At least, I always figure it's MY job to panic. When hubby panics, that totally freaks me out. ;-)
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