Yesterday I almost killed Husbandrinka. Mostly because I thought he was already dead or worse. Having an affair. Ok, so maybe an affair is not worse than dead, unless she’s less attractive than I am, because I’m not sure that I could live with that humiliation. But this isn’t about which one would have been worse. Both would be bad and I would be devastated. Not devastated enough to attend a GOP fundraiser, but devastated nonetheless.
I’ll tell you everything that happened so that we can be mad at him together, the way the Good Lord intended us to be.
At 10 pm, I got an email from Husbandrinka letting me know that he was leaving the reception he was at in midtown and walking home. Nothing was unusual about this email so I ignored it. I mean, what am I supposed to write back? Roger?
So I go on with my life, watching an episode of General Hospital like a normal person, trying not to get distracted by the fact that it’s now on at 2 pm instead of 3. If you haven’t been watching GH lately, I’m sorry to tell you that everyone in Port Charles is in grave danger. Jerry Jax, the villain, put some kind of pathogen in the water and everybody has only 48 hours to live. I was excited about wiping the slate clean and starting the show with a brand new cast, but it’s been like two weeks since everyone was exposed and they still seem to be alive although very sweaty. And now there’s talk of a cure which is really the last thing I need in terms of Sonny Corinthos succumbing to this “tragedy.”
But back to me.
I’m watching TV and enjoying my life when suddenly I realize that it’s 11:30 and Husbandrinka isn’t home yet.
What could this mean?
I put on my Nancy Drew hat and call his cell.
And it goes straight into voicemail.
This is the case of the missing Husbandrinka.
So I do what any normal person would do and start weighing the pros and cons of waking the children to let them know that their father is missing. Unfortunately I can’t think of a single pro, except if my daughter is up she could maybe help me fix this annoying thing that has been happening with my laptop. Like I’ll be writing and suddenly and for no reason the screen will become extra huge. I don’t mean bigger than the laptop itself, I’m not talking Dali here, but like the navigation bar at the top of the page will disappear. I figure after a few minutes of shock and despair that their father is missing, she can take care of that?
But then I decide not to wake them because I’m so used to putting other people first.
So I sit and panic.
Then I call a friend of mine to say that I am panicked because what’s the point of panicking unless you can tell other people about it.
And she suggests that maybe he ran into someone at the reception and is chatting and I dismiss that outright because what kind of a person runs into someone and chats? Maybe she could suggest an alien abduction next since we’re talking crazy shit.
This is why you should never turn to your friends in the time of need but rather take matters into your own hands, I-Built-It style.
So I get dressed. By which I mean out of my pajamas into street clothes, I don’t want you to think that I watch GH naked.
And then when I get dressed, I’m not sure what to do.
So I go downstairs to the local bar/restaurant where Husbandrinka and I sometimes go to get a drink.
If you’ve never walked into an such an establishment close to midnight and said “oh, I was just wondering if my husband was in here”- I certainly recommend that experience. It’s very Angela’s Ashes and makes for a wonderful evening.
I know you probably can’t stand the suspense, but shortly after I got home from my rescue mission, Husbandrinka came in. Seems that when he sent me the email letting me know that he was walking home, it was really code for “I’m about to start a lengthy conversation with someone and when it’s over, I will walk home.” I guess I mis-understood it because English she is my second language.
Needless to say, I was fuming and seething and used many Words That Hurt ™ including but not limited to asshole.
He had some things to say in his defense, leading off with the fact that he had stopped at the bodega to get an ice cream bar. So, to recap, while I was worrying about the fact that I wasn’t sure where his life insurance policy was and how I was going to invest this windfall, he was having ice cream.
I tell you, some days marriage is tougher than others.
Looking for a GOP-inspired outfit for your kid? Here ya go! (I’ll need you to sign a few waivers before you click over, though!)
One year ago ...
- Freezer - 2013