I guess I can understand how getting the new fence up is more important then talking about my underwear

Tomorrow night, I will see my husband again for the first time in 3 weeks.

I know that there are happily married couples all over the world, who because of work or family or other myriad reasons spend months and years apart. I am not one of those people. But my husband, apparently, is A-OK with it. He should totally apply for some job at the North Pole or some other equally remote and high-paying gig, because clearly, he's not suffering like I am. Who knew? In my excitement to finally see him, I am driving 3 hours during rush hour traffic (so probably more like 4 or maybe 5 hours, honestly) to get to him as early as possible, and booking a hotel room for a night of romance.......and he is driving back and forth to Home Depot and probably wishing he had a few more days at home to get this fence done right.

I am not a huge proponent of hot and heavy phone calls, but I have to admit that when things get desperate just maybe having someone talk about how much they want to see you, and perhaps all of the terribly filthy things they are going to do to you when they DO see you would be kind of......nice. So last night, I was finally alone for a few minutes and he was home and actually answered his phone, and I was all "I can't wait to get my hands on you. I am going to wear some tiny and vaguely obscene thong to come pick you up and if you are into it we can just pull over on the side of the Long Island Expressway."

And he said "That's great, but I really have to go finish putting up this fence."

.........  ?

Wow. That's hot. I tried to go with it. I tried to be all "Honey, you are THE MAN and I can't wait to see that fence you are putting up and it is just so awesome and so manly of you to renovate the house and build a fence while I was gone, you know, using physical labor to release all of the sexual tension that you must have bubbling up inside you" what I was really thinking was "I am totally wearing granny panties to pick you up tomorrow."

But today, we reached a new low on the enthusiasm scale. I have tried to call him 3 or 4 times about last minute things I would like him to bring, and he's not even answering the PHONE any more. He's probably back at Home Depot, getting wood cut and buying more nails. Hot.

But that fence? Is going to be fucking EPIC.

Well, that went only slightly better then I envisioned

Considering the fact that the drive TO Virginia involved the bumper detaching itself from my rental car in the first hour, my bar in terms of a successful roadtrip is, admittedly, very low.

The bumper stayed on my car, ergo it was already a highly successful endeavor.

The entire rest of the ride was a complete shit show.

The first issue - and the biggest, in terms of our drive - was that my 84 year old grandmother doesn't care for Glenda. "How does that thing work?" she demanded multiple times. And then she would immediately follow that up with, "It doesn't make any SENSE that thing. She is telling you to go the wrong way." At which point I would turn and say "I have no idea where I am, but if you know how to get where we are going, then BY ALL MEANS please enlighten me."

So then she would say, her disgust JUST BARELY VEILED, "Well, you want to turn that way, of course" gesturing in a general direction. And so I would dutifully follow my grandmother's direction, because the woman has been driving way longer then I have and I am certainly not going to second guess her.

And then we would drive a few miles down the road and she would immediately begin backtracking. "Hm. This doesn't look familiar. You should stop and ask directions." she would say, with the clear insinuation that I had gotten us into this mess.

It happened 3 times before we got out of Maryland.

I spent a good deal of time re-routing and trying to figure out where I was, and driving by exits because someone was asking me something when I was supposed to be trying to read signs. And when the 5 year old piped up and started putting her two cents in "This doesn't look right, mama" I pulled over. "What are you doing now?" my grandmother snapped. "Where are we going?"

"Everyone is going to have to stop talking now." I declared.
I might have been a bit shrill, actually.
"I am going to do exactly what the GPS tells me to. If it takes a little longer, that's OK. It will get us there, eventually. I don't want any more questions about where we are, or where we are going, or what state or town we are in, or what direction we are going, or what road we are getting on next, or when we are going to get there. I DON'T KNOW. I am listening to this little box, that works by magic. I need you to stop correcting and questioning me. I am starting to LOSE MY SHIT."

The silence? Was deafening.
For the rest of the ride, I tried to remain upbeat. My grandmother sat next to me quietly, carefully folding little pleats in her skirt. We had a few short conversations, but for the most part we were Not Speaking.

It was the best part of the entire drive.