Here’s a little game I play…Who in the world is doing the exact same thing as me at this exact point in time? I haven’t yet come up with a more concise name, but I have the rules down. Or rule, I should say. If I’m as close to certain as one can be (without being a total genie or clairvoyant) that I’m the only one doing that particular thing at that exact time then I win!
I’ve won twice, I believe, out of the hundreds of times I’ve played this game. Once when I had to plunge a toilet in a boutique hotel in Montreal because I ate WAY too much fondue the night before. You scoff, saying, “People plunge toilets all the time!” I agree. But not on a first overnight date. “Pulease,” you say. “Sure they do!”
But not with the dried flower arrangement taken from the vase sitting on the ledge of the corner soaking tub.
I win. And it worked. Double-fist pump, one jump in the air.
The second time was 8 weeks before I searched for the word LOVE in the Skype application of my husband’s computer. That day I bid farewell to him as he began a 2 month journey around the world for work. He needed to travel to Los Angeles for a business dinner and the next morning would depart for Eastern Europe. We hugged. We kissed. I didn’t cry so he wouldn’t feel bad about leaving his wife and two children (4 and 6) one week after moving into our new home, and the day before we closed on it. I had done it all before, I thought. And we were aiming to reduce his travel so we could spend more time together as a family. I thought of this trip as possibly his last long journey. I was ready to handle it like a pro.
He called after his business dinner. It had gone well. Plans were moving forward, the client was pleased with his work, and it seemed that they would begin a new project together that would help keep him off the road in 2012. He sounded a little tipsy. I thought that was unusual for a business dinner. But maybe it was just me.
“I’ll call you when I’m on the away to the airport in the morning. I already miss my family. I love you.”
Me – “I love you too. It’ll go fast. And you’re going to see some of the most amazing places in the world. Take time to enjoy yourself.”
But I didn’t mean right away.
6 minutes later my cell phone rang again. It was him. I smiled and answered, “I know – you miss me!”
A pocket call, I thought. I went to hang up but my hand pulled the phone back to my ear. I listened. To the clicking of high heels. To my husband asking about a sticker . To giggling. More high heel clicking. Three minutes and fifty seconds of walking, saying good evening to someone, and then, “We’re interested in a bottle of wine to start here and then take to our room.”
All 5 feet 9 inches of me quaked. From deep within me came a shuddering that had no end. The blur of my hands typing, “Who the f*%k are you with? I can hear everything you are saying you bastard. You lying a*%hole! Answer your f*%king phone!”
I called. No answer. I called again. No answer. I called again. He answered.
I had won again, I was sure. But this victory sucked.