Skipping Sundays

 (or, why my husband is more sarcastic than you'd ever guess)

This is the first Sunday in 4 weeks that I've actually be awake around the time for mass.  The first 2 I was off schedule, and then last week I had been up all night with the roof leaks.  But I just didn't feel like going today.  Honestly, it's exhausting driving to church, sitting by myself (no pinky to hold), up and down off my knees (this baby is making moving about real fun lately), and I just don't want to answer any more questions about how G is doing or when he's coming home.  The answers are as always, "He's doing great" and "Soon."

So I e-mail G to tell him that I just don't want to go by myself any more.  Church has always been this thing we do together and it makes me weary to be so alone in that cavernous place.  Instead, having been up since 9:30 last night (I slept for 6 hours...ahem), I'll probably nap, get a chicken to roast for dinner, and relax a bit.  I just received G's response and I literally laughed so loud that I startled Sophie and she jumped up.

G: I have to say, I'm a little disappointed...I figured that when they asked how I'm doing over here, you would just say, "Well, he'll be much better once they get the prosthetic fitted."

Such a smartass, that husband of mine.