Today is Sam’s last day of work. In just a few hours he’ll be off and home. Home till he leaves for the Army. Home…
for a MONTH.
Now, this is going to sound awful. Because you’d think with him being gone for 4 months, I’d be jumping up and down at the thought of him being home that long. Lots of time to spend together, to visit people, to take trips, to cuddle and talk…
But all I can think of.
The mess that he will not clean up (and it’s amazing just how much nagging he will endure), the mess that every.single.day I will have to pick up over and over to ensure that I do not lose my mind along with the shoes he can’t ever seem to find. (under the mess honey) The mess that even after just two days of him being home makes me go slightly insane because I don’t get why “clean” means “dishes in the sink, flour on the counter, food on the stove, socks on the ground, towels on the floor, laundry half done, bed unmade, 15 pairs of shoes in the hallway, coat on the chair, shaving cream in the sink – Hey it’s all clean!” ::HEADEXPLOSION::
A month of mess. I love him, I adore him, but oh. Oh my tongue will be bitten clean off with me trying to not say anything before he leaves. I begin each day with a prayer from here on out, “Lord, don’t let me see the mess.”
And then? I will have a clean house for 4 months and wish he was here to mess it up.
Omg. I’m a freak.