October 14th, 1990
At home, England
In the time that it took for mum and I to walk Tini around Willen Lake and devour baked potatoes slathered in beans and coleslaw, dad painted my kitchen!
David rang tonight but the eight-hour time change certainly didn’t appear to work in our favour.
“How’s the move going?”
“To quote you, swimmingly.”
I laughed. “Glad to hear it.”
“Yeah, we got everything out yesterday.”
“So where did you sleep last night?” I asked.
“Did you sleep at your new place?”
“Oh, eh, yeah, first night. Very cool.”
“How was it waking up?”
“Waking up?” His tone indicated he didn’t understand the question.
“With the new view, how was it?”
“Awesome, yeah, pretty cool.”
“Are you ok? You sound a bit distracted.”
I heard him yawn and couldn’t help but wonder if he was also stretching. Concentrate.
“It’s still early,” he said. “And all I can see are boxes that need to be unpacked. Preferably before the start of another crazy work week.”
When did unpacking become more important than talking to me!
“Then I should probably let you go.” I snipped, hoping my tone would alert him to how unsatisfied I was with the boxes excuse!
“Cool,” he replied. “I guess I’ll talk to you, when?”
“Not for a while,” I sighed, hoping that would rouse him. “This trip is a really long one.”
“That’s not so bad.”
Maybe not for you with all that unpacking to keep you busy!
“Ok so I guess have a good trip and let me know when you’re back.”
“Will do,” I stated.
“I love you honey.”
“I love you too,” I croaked, hanging up just in time for the tears to start.
I’m blaming the paint fumes!