Chris is gone. Not forever - the engagement's still on, but he's left for home in North Carolina for the next ten days. Sigh. It's strange when the person you live with isn't around for several days. At first I had a tremendous amount of stress before he left - often staging small pouting sessions and maybe, just maybe, the words "doooonnnn'ttt gooooo" and "hhooowwww cannnn yyyoouuuu llleeaaaveee mmmeeeee?" were involved. I never said this was pretty. I have to take my hat off to my sweet southern boy, he's now officially signed on for a healthy dose of crazy by asking me to get married. Of course, none of this comes as a surprise as he's been wading through the crazy for the past seven years. I suppose that's why the following telephone conversation didn't make him lose stride at work on Thursday morning when I frantically phoned the following information in:
ME: (in a hushed and somewhat frantic whisper) the building is surrounded.
C: What? (sound of papers being shuffled on the desk in the background).
ME: The police have the building surrounded and there's a helocopter circiling.
C: Huh. What's happening?
ME: I'm not sure, but I peaked out of the window and then ran away 'cause I didn't want the cops to see me. Do you think that's suspicious? I'm not trying to be suspicious, but you know, I'm working from home today and I haven't exactly showered or changed out of my jammies yet.
C: I think it's fine.
ME: Wait - I can hear the lady down stairs if I strain and sit under the window - she says there was burglar. Crap. Spanish.
C: Right, well, lock the door.
ME: Um, do you think it's also suspicious behavior that before I called you I hid in the closet to put pants on?
C: (silence). Why on earth would you do that?
ME: Well, you know, those police helicopters can see through buildings and into windows and stuff and I didn't want them to see me in my jammies or my underwear, so after my conference call, I ran down to the guest room and put on my jeans in the closet. And then, maybe some lip gloss in the dark in the bathroom.
C: (silence) (shuffling of papers - typing on computer keys). Um, yeah, they can't see into the closet, you're ok. And, don't do that again.
ME: Maybe you should come home. There's a lot of police and what if I need something?
C: Why don't you go talk to them? They can tell you what's going on.
ME: Where the bad people are??? Down on the street? I don't think so, pal. If they need me, they can buzz the apartment. Do YOU HEAR the helicopter.
C: I do.
ME: You're not coming home, are you?
C: Nope. Have a great day sweetie and don't forget, you're driving me to the airport.
ME: Back to my post under the window sill to strain for information until it was time for the next conference call.
Yeah - a little dose of crazy, it's good for him. (Come home! I miss you! And I have to let the creepy Time Warner Guy in tomorrow alone!)
That's all the crazy news that's fit to knit.
PS - If you've read this and know my mother, might run into my mother or might think about calling my mother, please don't mention the words, cops, my building, or burgler. She just doesn't need to worry about it. Thanks!