Hey, Jude

Dave starts his new schedule tomorrow, which means my life should be 17 percent better.

Doesn't sound like much, but after months of nothing but sports, late, late nights and dumb work schedules, I'll actually see him two nights a week instead of one. I won't be in R.E.M. sleep when he gets home. I won't have to listen to sports stuff; did I mention that?

I loathe not seeing him like normal people see their spouses (you know, eating supper together, watching stupid TV shows, etc.), but I like my schedule and it works ... So what can ya do. Well, funny you should ask. You can sit around and curse life. It's a popular choice. Or, you can sleep a lot. Maybe blog a little. Or read. Sometimes you can even like it, like when you want to watch "Bridget Jones" or anything with Jude Law in it. Yum.

Um.

But most of the time that's not really the case. I have more fun with Dave in real life than with Jude Law, most of the time. An aunt asked me if I thought this whole separation from him would inevitably make us stronger.

Because I probably newlywed-naive and I don't think about the status of my relationship with Dave -- It's just my life; he's so much a part of it that I don't make plans; we do. He doesn't talk about his life; he talks about ours. It makes strangers gag, but honestly, why should I care what strangers think of my marriage -- I didn't know what to say to her. "Yes? I guess I enjoy him more when he is here?" yet NO, because it's less that we get to do together. Stomping foot. Retreating to room. Slamming door. Listening to emo.

Since it can't be helped, I guess my answer is sure, because not seeing him isn't hurting anything but my day-to-day fun index. My marriage is fine. Dave's fine. I'm OK. The dog's fine.

Anyhow. Dave moves to the news desk again Tuesday, which means Sunday and Monday, he'll be here. Two nights in a row. Wow! Instant life improvement. Ha ha aaaaaaaah .... Ahh, it's funny cuz it's sad and true.