february 7: the day I became one of those people who kiss, and cry, and kiss, and kiss, and cry, and kiss, and cry, and kiss, and kiss at airports

I dropped Somebody off at the airport last night at about 5:30 p.m. His flight was scheduled to depart at 7:22-ish. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t end up getting on the plane until almost 11 p.m. Luckily (because flight delays are always lucky) his flight out of San Francisco was also delayed three hours. He ended up leaving the country at about 4 a.m., Utah time. His delays will mean that instead of a short 24 hours of travel, he will have spent 28 hours traveling. Poor kid.

I spent last night, for the first time since we’ve been married, alone in the house. Alone in the bed. I’m a little ashamed to say that it was the best sleep I’ve had in months. I’m a very light sleeper (don’t let my loud snoring fool you into thinking I’m in a deep sleep. I didn’t earn the nickname Chainsaw Slaugh for nothing.) and so every time Somebody moves, or touches me, or breathes, I wake up. And while I love the warm body next to me, it was refreshing, literally, to actually sleep undisturbed. Now, don’t go thinking that I’m kicking him out of the bed permanently, or taking seriously his suggestion that we should have twin beds. If I had the choice, I would choose him over a completely restful sleep every day of the week, and twice on Sundays.