I didn’t know that a phone call to the West coast could be so dangerous.
It’s my friend’s birthday tomorrow. We hadn’t talked in years, so I picked up the phone and called her. From our end, my wife told me that I sounded like our very first date– I wouldn’t stop talking.
Except that I wasn’t nervous on the phone today. I was happy to hear from her, my friend whom I had adopted as family back in high school. And somehow, in the midst of all the catching up, I agreed to travel West next summer to reach a gaming convention and hang out with her and her husband for a few days.
I agreed to what? A trip West would mean that I had agreed to the following:
- Leave the house.
- Travel by plane, train, automobile across the Badlands.
- Schlep a bag of toy soldiers.
- Again, leave the house.
- Socialize. Every. Single. Day.
- Like, talk to people.
- Leave the house.
The worst of it would be leaving my wife behind. But I already made contigency plans. Excuses:
- Meningitis
- Graduation celebration with my wife– in Hawaii
- Work summer school
- Um, mow the lawn
- Sort socks
- Wash hair
- It’s not you, it’s me…
Ok that’s all lame. I do want to see them, I just can’t imagine that much interaction in a condensed time period.
And I’d miss my wife. I always miss her.
So excuse number 1000: I would miss my wife.