Space and Being the Girl

Deliciously exhausted after a 6k run and ironing the excessive amount of shirts B wanted to pack for his work trip – he is worse than most self respecting women, I swear I’ve never known anyone (myself included!) pack so much stuff. Seriously, any time we go away he takes EVERYTHING. When we went to Sweden for Christmas, I cunningly packed when he was at the gym the day before we flew out and put all his things on the bed. I deliberately put out way more than he’d need, yet he managed to sneak in another two pairs of shoes (that he never wore as it was -24 and lots of snow) and umpteen other bits, that, bingo, never even made it out of the suitcase in Scandiland. Funny.

And this time, he looked at me and asked if he’d packed too much. Er… Go wild, honey. I don’t need any space in the suitcase so if you want to go with your normal more-is-more approach, knock yourself out! No skin off my back, baby! No idea where this new let’s-pack-sparsely strategy came from, only I hope it surfaces again the next time I need space for my stuff in the bag too. I’m the girl, for God’s sake!

Not looking forward to the week ahead without my precious B. Normally, if he has to go away with work, it’s just for a couple of days and there’s only one night to get through, but those are bad enough. Just the thought of being in our bed and his long, lean, strong and toasty warm body not there when I reach over to hold him is awful. And as I always do, whenever he’s away, I know I’ll startle myself awake when in my sleep I roll over to hug him and snuggle up close to that gorgeous man beast. And now I have to get through FIVE of those nights.

Stoopid America, stealing my baby! Roll on Saturday.

Thankfully, I will have Monkey here with me. Both my boys away at the same time would have been shit beyond words.


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