My Baboo of the Comfy Chair had a class in the Big City 100 miles north. The Big Bad City, second-mostly-deadly-in-the-U.S. A class in the heart of the car-jacking hood, only a couple of blocks away from the once-pride-of-the-south mall that's now empty except when they dump the bodies there. A two-day class in a city on a stretch of interstate filled with truckers on speed. In fact, he saw two Big! Burning! trucks on his way home the first night.
Baboo of the Comfy Chair is not a road warrior.
I could have changed bed linens while he was gone, welcoming him home to fresh, clean sheets. I did not. What if the unthinkable happened? What if he......I needed those sheets while he was gone. I needed the smell of them. Plenty of time for clean sheets in the long rest of our lives.
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3 comments:
I get that.
My brain always works that way. And it's all-encompassing. Just about every time I pull out in traffic, I see and hear the accident that could happen if I misjudged the speed of the oncoming vehicles. It gets tiresome. I think that's the real reason I don't like to drive a lot. The fear factory in my head.
Glad he made it home safe. And hey, you can always start changing the sheets when he pulls into the carport! =)
In the mornings, as soon as Mr. G. leaves the bed I roll over to his side. I get this post, so get it.
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